The Monster and the Man
by FreyjaBee
Summary: Pleasure houses where the men and women are too beautiful to be real. Casinos where the House always wins but no one can stay away. Drugs that will let you love anyone you can dream of... For all of this, there is only ever one price and everyone pays the same: everything you are. The man you can be... Set him aside for the monster. Rated M. Sexual content, violence. Noir Prequel.
1. Chapter 1

**Warnings:** Graphic depictions of violence, sexual encounters, substance abuse (probably?) and other such sensitive topics. _Mature audiences only, please.  
_  
 _Fairy Tail belongs to Hiro Mashima_

 ** _The Monster and the Man_**

* * *

It was hard being good.

 _Hard._

Not because the right choice was indistinct. No. And not because he didn't want to be, either.

It was just oftentimes, Jellal felt people just didn't deserve it. It took _effort_ to smile serenely. It took _skill_ to go high when people dug down low. To slide into the man he'd been during his Tower of Heaven days… that was an easy thing. It came to him naturally. He'd spent more than half of his life living on the dark side and relishing every minute of it. It was what he knew best.

When the chapter of his life entitled ' _Tower of Heaven Sadist'_ closed and he'd been freed from the Tower of Heaven's grip, as his penance, Jellal made it his mission to try to right some of the wrongs in this wretched world. His means of doing so were simple: destroy the dark guilds overrunning Fiore. It was something he excelled at and it was something that kept the beast in check. To the most damaged mages that dared to beg for their lives he'd say, "I was a monster before I was a man."

Monster, then man. Monster, then man. And then he was a monstrous man.

Jellal knew that the charges he bore were innumerable, his guilt unsurpassable. The blood he had on his hands… the only way to wash it clean was with more blood. That's what he told himself, anyway, because, in reality, his sanity wasn't just a switch. Ultear had spent so many years digging around in his head, rerouting the way he thought, the way he felt, that even now, years after she'd taken out her talons and joined the fight for 'good,' Jellal still had trouble deciding how much was too much. What was punishment and what was pleasure? What was justice and what was just…

Want?

It was a ledge he trod every day. So far, he'd yet to slip over, but as he walked into Primal Instincts, a tattoo parlor housing an interesting kind of devil on the edge of a town called Innisfil, he considered what the fall down that rabbit hole would be like. Amazing? Terrifying? And really, when he was doing this kind of business, should he care?

Those were the kinds of thoughts that brought out the monster.

The bell over the door jangled and the man behind the artist's counter looked up. He was older, with pudgy cheeks covered in tattoos, a double chin adorned with a long goatee, and sausage-like fingers that were deceptively nimble. He met Jellal's gaze, then dropped his eyes. "Afternoon."

"Ingin." Jellal nodded. Despite Ingin's coolness, they knew each other well enough.

"Need a touch-up?" Ingin asked.

Jellal touched his right cheek gently, fingering the mark over his eye. "Yeah." When he was young, it had marked him as one of Madam Genève's boys, belonging to Innisfil's most secret pleasure house. The Vault was elite, where rich men and rich women came to pay for services from exotic looking creatures. It was his hair that had caught Madam's attention first, blue and vibrant as it was. Then it was his smile. ' _Magnifique_ ,' she used to say in her eastern tongue. ' _Magnifique_.' That word still haunted his dreams.

"We could remove it, Jellal," Ingin said, dragging him back to the present.

Jellal knew it wasn't that simple. It was a part of him now, something he'd come to loathe as much as he loved. "If I came to remove it, I would lose its effect." Though he supposed it should bring him shame, it was a mark he bore proudly, in defiance of that time.

"And what effect is that?" The way Ingin said 'is' came out sounding like ' _eez_ '.

"It reminds guilty people of their misdeeds," Jellal said.

Ingin waved him to the leather chair. Only after Jellal sat and leaned back under the drooping overhead light did the man say, "Why would you want to remember those? It isn't good to punish yourself, boy. The past is the past."

"Yes," Jellal agreed, though Ingin had missed his point entirely. "The past is the past." It was a philosophy everyone would do well to adhere to. Closing his eyes, Jellal waited for Ingin to prepare his needle. There was a click, an exhale of sour breath, then the tattoo gun buzzed to life.

"Stay very still." _Steel_ , not still.

Jellal was careful not to move. The needle went over his eye, again and again, darkening the tattoo he'd had for as long as he could remember. Every few years he'd come in. It was always to the same place, because not only did Ingin know who he was, he kept his secrets well. Mostly because Jellal knew a few of Ingin's darkest tales, too.

Beyond being a criminal, seedy even amongst the dregs, Ingin was an excellent tattoo artist. His lines were straight and true, his hands steady, and most importantly, his mouth was always sealed.

"Doesn't hurt _, ja_?" Ingin asked.

Jellal grunted. It did hurt but the pain was welcomed. The pain let him know that he was alive, that he was free, free of the Vault, free of the Tower of Heaven, and that he still had a duty and the means to complete it. The pain could stop when he was dead.

The needle pressed in over his eyelid. This was the worst part. The skin was thinnest here, the needle reaching nearly to his eye. He breathed in and out slowly, telling himself that it would soon be over. In reality, this part took the longest. Ingin was extra careful and extra slow.

Jellal counted the seconds until he was finished.

The needle moved to his forehead. "Do you still speak to Sienna?" Ingin asked.

Sienna, with hair almost as violently red as Erza's. Thinking of the Fairy Tail mage made his chest feel kind of empty with loss while thinking of his one-time friend and co-Vault captive made him feel panicked. To be fair to Sienna, it wasn't her, exactly… it was what she represented. A time when he was too afraid to escape. "No."

The answer came out so abrupt, Ingin didn't press it.

But Jellal was curious, remembering Sienna sitting on Madam Genève's lap, the woman's orange-painted nails threading through her hair. _'Magnifique. Magnifique_.' "Do you?"

"You know she wasn't there when the Vault was raided by those child snatchers," Ingin said. "The house was closed down after that. She had nothing, so it was the streets with her." Clearly, Jellal remembered the night the slavers from the Tower of Heaven came crashing into the Vault to steal the children away. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. Their reasoning for raiding the whore house was simple: the children there were already counted as lost causes, no one would be looking for them.

That old, familiar rage and panic came back. It tasted like searing acid when he swallowed it.

"She was pretty, though." Ingin concluded. "The last I heard, she was being eyed by a rich man's bitch." The needle stopped. "You're fine again for another few years."

Jellal opened his eye. The skin felt sunburned; it was a pain he both knew and welcomed. Calmly, he asked, "How many more, Ingin?"

Ingin paused unhooking the needle from the gun. "How many more what?" He asked it carefully, guardedly.

"How many more children have you marked up for her?"

With great purpose, Ingin placed the needle into an alcohol bath, then turned and faced Jellal head on, so Jellal could see that the man's tattooed face was wrinkled now. When Jellal was small, Ingin had been just as covered in ink twisted to look like monsters in myth, but he remembered looking up into the man's eyes and seeing a thread of kindness there. Despite Ingin's role in Madam Genève's business, he was, at the heart of things, at least striving to be a good man.

Jellal knew better than anyone that the struggle was real. It didn't make him sympathetic, though.

"It is done." _Eez.  
_  
"Don't lie."

"Jellal—"

"I know she's collecting them again." Innisfil had been an unhealthy obsession of his for years. He was always looking for the moment he saw Madam's children darting through the streets again, using the cover of darkness to remain unseen, the tattoo over their eye. Maybe it had been going on for longer than the few weeks he'd been aware of (likely) but it was only recently, with Tartarus' destruction, that he was able to really focus on the segment of Fiore that housed his deepest, darkest secrets.

"I—"

" _How many_?"

"It's not children any longer," Ingin said finally— _ashamedly._ "At least, not mostly. Now it's women and mages Madam wants."

That changed, but not much else. " _How. Many_?" That ledge he toed never looked so steep, nor so close.

"I don't have a number, Jellal."

"You mark them as hers and turn a blind eye, and you can't bother remembering how many feet have stepped through your door?" His throat was as dry as parchment, his stomach burdened with the revelation. "She treats them worse than slaves." He should know.

"Madam—"

Jellal knew he was about to defend her. He didn't want to hear it. "The last time we spoke, you said it was finished."

Ingin, perhaps feeling the rise of agitated magic, paled. "Yes, it was finished. The Tower of Heaven business crushed the Vault. Then… then something changed. A man came looking for her, wanted mages, and Madam—you have to understand—she—she threatened to close me down and ruin me if I didn't help again." _Me._ Not my shop, but me. Broken knees, broken elbows? Broken cheeks? That was how Madam Genève did business. Or… how she got people to do business for her. She was too much of a lady to get her hands bloody herself.

"Forgive me." Ingin bowed his balding head, his long, silver goatee, auburn when Jellal first met him thirteen years earlier, nearly brushing the floor.

Jellal's chest got cold and he knew the kind of forgiveness he was in the mood to grant. "I was a monster before I was a man."


	2. Chapter 2

After Fairy Tail disbanded Erza Scarlet took off exactly three weeks.

Then she got bored.

And when she got bored, she got to thinking. The places her idle mind led her were strange. Well, almost. It didn't come as much of a surprise to her when she started thinking of Jellal Fernandez, he was always there in the back of her mind, someway or another. What surprised her was when she started daydreaming of finding him.

And then maybe of travelling with him. And his group, she supposed.

How _scandalous._ Titania Erza, travelling with a group of renegade law-breakers. Wanted criminals. The tabloids would have a fucking field day if it ever came to be.

Those were her thoughts that first week.

The second week went something like: _Wouldn't it be fun if I travelled with them and got to dress up every single day? Stay in costume like Mystogan did, hiding from prying eyes in plain sight?_

 _That_ made her heart beat a little faster.

The third week had her wondering if she even _could_ track down Crime Sorciere. She'd never been _very_ good at turning down a challenge. Thus the hunt began. The way she justified her actions was by convincing herself that she was just doing it to see if it _could_ be done, or if Jellal was as ghostly as all of the police and magic enforcement units said.

Somewhere along the way she lost track of the 'just because I can's' and 'what if's' and truly started hunting. She didn't think about what she'd do if she found them, if she did she might have lost courage and just stopped; she only focused on the hunt.

She took any and every scrap of information she could get and ran with it. Sometimes it panned out (sort of, she was always too late arriving to a location they'd been spotted) but most of the time it ended in disappointment.

That was, until one day while sifting through the gutter trash in a place called Melony, Erza's path was darkened by a familiar looking woman. When she stepped into the light, Erza recognized Sorano. Her heart crashed against her ribs—she hadn't _actually_ considered the possibility that she'd truly find them—find _him._

Then the woman opened her mouth and dashed Erza's victory. "I heard you've been following us. I didn't really believe it, so I stuck around and here you are." Erza, cheeks warm, stammered. Before she could get a word in edgewise, Sorano said, "Jellal isn't with us."

 _That_ bit of news surprised Erza out of her embarrassment and ineptitude. "He's not?"

"He left to take care of some personal business," Sorano said.

"What kind of business?" Erza pried, though she told herself not to.

"The kind he didn't want us knowing about," the woman replied.

What did that mean? Whatever it was, Erza's stomach did somersaults, telling her that she didn't like it. Why would Jellal leave Crime Sorciere? "Where did he go?"

"He wouldn't say." Erza's disappointment was evident on her face. Sorano smiled, a sharp thing that was edged with cruelty. "But maybe I can tell you, for a price."

Erza looked at her guardedly. "What price?"

"First that you don't tell Jellal that I told you where to find him." She ticked the concession off on her index finger. "Secondly, that you give me enough money to get out of here."

"You plan on escaping while he's gone," Erza deduced.

She rolled her eyes. "Don't say it like that, Erza. We gave up our freedom to go to jail. Then we gave up our freedom for Jellal's pet project. The dark guilds are _gone_ , so what are we doing? Jellal's chasing down his demons and I'm dreaming of a hot beach, a beach boy with more muscle than brains, and being the little spoon in a three spoon pile."

Erza blushed when she realized what Sorano meant.

"If there are ever any dark guilds that crop up again, I'll come back, but for now… I can't _stand_ Macbeth's moping, Merdy is just so fucking _chipper_ now, Richard is driving me crazy, Sawyer is a pervert, and Erik—don't even get me _started_ on Erik. I can't even _breathe_ without him hearing. Can you imagine doing anything else?"

No. That man literally heard everything.

"So, if you promise not to tell him I spied then ratted him out, and you give me some coin, we have ourselves a deal."

Erza frowned.

Sorano knew how to press the right buttons. "He seemed really… _distraught_ when he left a few days ago. I just don't know what's going on with him."

Erza huffed and went digging through her pockets. "How much do you need?"

Sorano rhymed off an unreasonable amount. Erza squawked. "For _what_?"

"My new wardrobe, of course. Travel expenses. Hotels, trains, carriages, gourmet dinners…"

She almost told Sorano to get lost. What stopped her was her mediocre detective skills. "Fine." She emptied her pockets of all the money she had.

Sorano accepted it, a wide grin on her mouth. "Thanks, Erza. He's in a place called Innisfil. Three days north by train. I don't know what he's doing there, before you ask. I just know he's been obsessed with it for as long as I've been in this shitty guild. Take care!" She waggled her fingers then and disappeared down the alley once more.

Erza, grumbling, summoned one of her daggers and set to work popping the ruby out of its hilt. She was going to have to pawn it to get to where she was going.

* * *

His hands were clean but they _felt_ bloody. He imagined they would for a long time.

Walking at night was habit. Walking through _Innisfil_ at night was unwise. Even with his hood pulled up high over his face he still imagined that everyone watched him, that, impossibly, everyone _knew_ who he was, what he'd done. It was unlikely, Innisfil was about as far away from Era as it could be while still in Fiore, being on the boarder of the western continent as it was, but old habits died hard.

Coming up on a bar named Roulette Wheel on Aurum Avenue where the large and luxurious Casino Gomorrah was located, Jellal slipped out of the light of the street lamps and stuck to the alleys. Down here was grosser—the ground was slicked in sticky puddles that smelled like human filth, cigarette butts were caught in the darkest, dankest corners, and garbage was strewn around like decoration—but it was also where he felt more comfortable. It was _also_ where he suspected he'd find his answers.

Coming around the back of Casino Gomorrah he saw what he was looking for, a woman with long blonde hair, black lipstick, and a white dress that was so tight, it was see-through. A street walker, likely one that would know the score in Innisfil nowadays. At her side was a giant burley man who looked drunker than a skunk. He was trying to proposition her, of that much Jellal was sure. She kept shaking her head.

"You don't have enough to buy me."

And that was when he got handsy, grabbing a handful of her ass. "What've you got that's so much better than everyon' else, huh?"

"Taste," the girl snapped and smacked him hard.

He was reeling back to really lay into her when Jellal interjected. "Hey."

The man paused and turned to look at him. Jellal eased his cowl back to better see. As soon as his face was exposed, the man's eyes lit up and Jellal remembered where he and recognized his mistake.

"See that, Sara, you're a tight-legged cunt, and Madam moves in on your territory." The man closed the distance between them.

Jellal was tall, but he had to look up into this man's face when he got close. Maybe that was his first mistake, letting the guy get any closer than he was already, but he was caught in a memory. His time in the Vault was spent being passed around by men just like this. Men with wives and daughters and sons, men of daylight morals. But when the sun went down… then they'd come into the Vault and they'd do what they were too afraid to do in the light of day. They were the roughest. The cruelest.

The man leaned in so his mouth was in Jellal's ear. "Men, women. It makes no difference to me. Your mouths are all the same." His breath was hot. "It's been a long time since I've seen one like you outside of the Vault."

For a moment Jellal was absolutely paralyzed, not the man that had singlehandedly destroyed the Magic Council, not the man that had decimated countless of dark guilds, not the man that was once a ten-wizard saint. He was a boy, inept and at the mercy of whoever chose to have him.

The man started fussing at his pants; they were undone faster than Jellal thought possible. His shoulder was grabbed in a huge, burly hand and the man tried to force him down.

That was when Jellal remembered. _I was a monster before I was a man. I was a monster. I was a monster. Now I am a monstrous man._ He grabbed the man's hand from his shoulder and twisted it roughly, continuing until there came an audible pop. His attacker screamed shrilly. Jellal grabbed his hair next and used it as leverage to pull the man down to his knee.

It actually hurt when the guy's teeth collided with bone and cartilage, but it was a pain Jellal weathered.

The man gasped and would have gone down then, if Jellal let him, but he wasn't done yet. It wasn't enough to incapacitate him. He had to _remember._ Every time he tried to force himself upon someone, he would think back to this time and _know_. Or so he hoped.

Again, he smashed the man's face against his knee. His nose broke. Blood came in a hot wash, soaking through Jellal's pants. Finally, the coup de gras, he tore back the man's face and brought his elbow up, six to twelve, and felt not only his nose crunch grossly once more, but his _teeth_ came loose. One tinkered against the ground. Jellal let go. The man dropped like a sack of grain. Perhaps he'd been passed out for long seconds. He couldn't tell.

Panting, Jellal scrubbed his hands on his pants, like _that_ would wipe away the memory of the man's hands on him. Hardly at all, but illusions were everything.

"Does Madam know you treat customers like that?" came a quiet, sultry voice.

Lifting his gaze, he looked at the blonde. If the woman was disquieted by the violence, she showed it only in the way her hands quivered. "I don't—I'm not one of hers."

"You've escaped then," she replied. "And you've found yourself in the wrong place."

"No—"

"I know that tattoo. If you run back to the Vault now, she might not even whip you."

"I—It was once mine, but no longer."

The girl came close, squinting and pursing her lips. "I know you."

 _I know you,_ No one in Innisfil was supposed to recognize him. Not anymore.

And yet… "Jellal?"

Jellal stared at her blankly until she grabbed her bangs and tore her hair away. Underneath was a head of copper red hair smoothed back into a tight bun.

"It's Sienna."

And then he saw the resemblance. _Magnifique._ " _Gods._ Sienna?" Her cheeks had lost the baby fat and Madam's tattoo, her chest had gotten large, her hips wide, waist thin. Exactly the kind of girl that would do well in her profession.

"Yes." She smiled and the resemblance grew. "It's been _so_ long. I thought you were dead when they took you away. And then I heard all those awful things about you in the Tower of Heaven. I didn't believe them," she gushed.

He wanted to tell her she should have, but didn't.

Gracefully, she stepped over the man lying unconscious on the ground and gathered him into a bone-crushing hug. She smelled like cigarette smoke and alcohol and at least two kinds of perfume.

Jellal's mind tried to catch up. _Sienna._ What were the chances? "You're—but—the Vault—it closed. Why?"

"Why? Why am I here, you mean?"

Jellal nodded.

"Working, _obviously_ ," she said with a grin. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Jellal looked down at the man he'd rendered unconscious. "I heard some rumors. I wanted to confirm them."

"Then why are you wearing _her_ mark? If Mr. York sees you here with that…"

"Mr. York?"

Sienna looked at him like he was insane. " _Yes,_ my boss, Mr. York. He owns Casino Gomorrah."

"And the whores running through Innisfil?" He didn't mean for it to come out quite like that, disparagingly, condescendingly.

Sienna didn't flinch; she knew what she was. "Yes, and then some." She bit her lip, as if considering something, then waved him close. "Here. I'll bring you inside and we can talk."

"Inside?"

"Gomorrah."

"I thought—"

She pulled something out of a small bag she carried. A concealer kit. Sienna opened the small brown case, took out a cotton pad, and started dabbing it over his tattoo. It wasn't any kind of regular makeup Jellal had ever seen before. It even felt different, full of magic that made his skin itch. It smelled like powder and chemical. His face got hot; it cooled an instant later.

"There. Come on." She grabbed his hand and dragged him towards a door he hadn't noticed before, one marked _Staff._ He followed, leaving behind the bleeding man. The door opened inwards on silent hinges. Beyond it was a dully lit hallway. The floors were white marble, the walls white flecked gold. It was impeccably clean compared to the back alley. Noise drifted through the walls, but where they were was empty.

Sienna took a sharp left and came to a small service elevator. "Technically, this is for staff only. Mr. York gets mad when I bring clients through this way, but he's not here tonight and Logan is busy managing the lounge."

"Logan?" Jellal's head felt like it was whirling. He was far too slow for this kind of abrupt jump.

"He's Gomorrah's talent scout, and he manages this casino when Mr. York isn't around."

The elevator arrived. The doors slid open, inviting them in. Jellal stepped in behind Sienna, feeling out of place and exposed. Sienna stabbed the button for floor nine. The elevator's door closed silently, then they were moving. In the reflective metal, Jellal caught blurry sight of his face. There was no tattoo. He touched the area gently. It just didn't look right.

"Don't rub it," Sienna warned. "It'll come off easy."

Jellal dropped his hand.

The doors whooshed open again a moment later, depositing them on floor nine. Sienna stepped out and waved him along. Under their feet, the floor was marble again, the walls still that white-stained gold. Every so often there was an expensive looking painting, then a walnut stand housing steely blue flowers made up of a cone of smaller blue blooms and a metallic collar. Sea Holly. The soil they were planted in was sand. Jellal touched one on the way and was rewarded with a pricked finger. Blood welled to the surface. He popped it into his mouth and sucked it clean.

At door twenty-two, Sienna produced a card and slipped it into the cardholder. The lock disengaged and the door slipped open. Inside was a simply furnished room. A king sized bed, a dark wood dresser and nightstand, white carpet. Sienna waved him in, then closed and locked the door. She threw her wig on the dresser.

"Why blonde?" Jellal asked. Red was the most beautiful colour, he thought.

"Lots of men like it," she replied.

He grunted, mind on a different redhead.

"Sit."

The only place was the bed. He sat and looked at her. "So what are you still doing here? I thought after the Vault closed…"

Sienna smiled. "I got lucky. After the Vault closed, I wandered the streets for a few years, freelancing until Mr. York showed up and built this casino and hotel. He bought half of Innisfil in one shot then. He offered me a job being a whore. His rates were better than Madam's."

Jellal remembered. Madam Genève's pay consisted of food and a lack of a beating, if you were lucky.

"I came for the money, stayed for a girl."

"A girl?"

Sienna got a wistful look in her eye, "She's amazing. But enough of that. What are _you_ doing here, and why do you still have that ugly tattoo? Ingin can remove it, you know?"

"Ingin is dead," Jellal said coldly. He'd dragged him to Scarlet Lake himself and dropped him in, moving under the cover of darkness.

Sienna looked pale for a moment.

"He was marking more up for her," Jellal said. "I couldn't—"

Sienna said, "I still remember… _Magnifique."_

Sienna got it. "Me too. Do you know why she suddenly started again?"

The girl bit her black-painted lip. "Yes."

"Why?"

She hesitated. "It's easier to show you."

Jellal made to stand. She waved him back down and came over. From her pocket she produced a small round container. Opening it, she took out a flat sheet of something green cut into a rectangle. "Open your mouth, Jellal."

"What is it?"

"Just trust me, your safe. Hold out your tongue and think of someone beautiful, someone you want more than anyone else."

There was only one person that filled both of those requirements. Curiosity had him operating against his better judgement, opening his mouth and closing his eyes. The green rectangle landed on his tongue, tasting of mint and something chemically.

It melted.

Abruptly, he felt twisted round and round. The world dissolved. Morphed.

"Remember, think of her… or him, I suppose…"

When he opened his eyes, Sienna changed… Suddenly, Erza stood before him wearing a too-tight white dress.

"Do you see?" She touched his face, then his chest. Even her voice belonged to Erza, a little rough, like velvet on granite, a little sweet, like honey on the tongue. Gods, he loved her.

Jellal eased into that touch. "Erza…"

"Yes?"

"What…"

She leaned down and kissed him, tongue sliding over his lips. Numbly, feeling absolutely disconnected, he opened for her.

 _Erza._ He touched her, unable to help himself. "Why… why are you here?" Logically, he _knew_ it didn't make sense, but… but he wanted it to.

"See? This is why it's so addicting. Anyone you want… they can be yours. You will have to pay, Jellal. Alright?" She broke away to grab the hem of her dress and pull it over her head, exposing full breasts, a white thong.

"I—"

She shimmied in nice and close, scarlet hair cascading over her shoulder, teasing the tops of her full, pink capped breasts. "Tell me yes and we can continue. Otherwise…"

He couldn't speak so he nodded.

She crawled right up on his lap, pressing her body against his. Jellal lost himself in the sensation.


	3. Chapter 3

Jellal's eyes felt glued shut like they'd never been before. The worst hangover felt better than this. His skin itched, felt too tight, too hot. And there was a hollowness in his chest. A dry _want_. Licking parched lips with an equally parched tongue, he lifted a leaden hand to his eyes and rubbed, thinking maybe that would help. It only served to prove that he felt absolutely detached.

"Holy..."

"...Fuck."

"I thought you'd sleep all night," said a voice that was huskier than he remembered, but still familiar.

Jellal forced his eyes apart. It was then he realized he was really uncomfortable. And incredibly cold. Naked. The thing under his back was hard. Or… mostly. It was sort of plush and then under that was hard ground.

"I know, the high is better than the comedown."

He grunted and tipped his head back, finding... Not Erza. Sienna. Sienna standing by a silk-draped window, as naked as he, coppery hair kissing her breasts. He'd seen her this way before, multiple times, but she was different now, full where she was supposed to be, supple and soft. Hard to look away from, unless he was blind. The memory hit him hard and fast, Sienna, disguised as Erza, rocking over top of him. Sienna, puffing and panting, bringing herself down on his body skillfully, all the while wearing Erza's face. _That_ made him rock hard again, but knowing that it wasn't real… Disappointment was a palpable thing. Not that the knowledge suffocated that shame-doused desire. He thought he shouldn't appreciate the woman before him while wanting the woman she could pretend to be.

He cleared his throat. "Madam said..."

"No relations amongst her whores," Sienna said in a perfect eastern accent. "Did you forget neither of us work for her anymore?"

 _That's right._ It had been years and years, yet as soon as he stepped foot into Innisfil again, it was like nothing had changed. _You're not that person anymore_. Who was that, anyway? A weak boy. No one worth remembering. Jellal separated himself from his past with great effort.

"It's going to be three hundred," Sienna told him while she finger-brushed her hair. "And if you want to take care of that..." She nodded to his unwelcomed erection, "I can do it for fifty. Unless..." She walked closer, pushing her breasts together. "You want the whole package again. In which case, I'll be happy to oblige."

Jellal, shamefacedly, reached blindly for the bed, grasping at the chiffon sheets and pulling them down to cover himself, as if _that_ would hide what he thought of her offer. How the _fuck_ did he end up on the floor? And how the _fuck_ did this happen? "You... Used me."

"Not at all." Sienna came to stand over him, feet on either side of his body, then knelt, unashamedly pressing her body against his. "You asked a question, I answered. And if I needed to make some money... Well, why not kill two birds with one stone?"

"That's one of Madam Genève's philosophies."

"She had some things right." Sienna touched his face.

Jellal didn't pull away, not yet. "How did you wear her face?"

"Erza Scarlet?" She smirked and pinched his cheek when he went rigid.

"How do you—"

"You're a talker, Jellal. Filthy, filthy things." She wriggled her hips. "Mmm… if I was Erza Scarlet…" She blew out an exaggerated breath and fanned her face. "I would be a lucky girl."

Face flushed, he grabbed her thighs to keep her still. Even with the sheets between them it was distracting. He tried to focus on the facts. "Tell me how it was done. How did you know to appear as her?"

Sienna sobered some. "I didn't change at all; it was your perception of me. That thing I gave you? It's a new drug called Illusion. After it melts on your tongue, all you have to do is think of the person you want and let the drug do the work. It's really popular."

Jellal could see why. "How is Madam Genève involved?"

Feeling his erection fading, Sienna let her eyes flutter closed and started to rock, grasping her breasts together all the while.

"Sienna," he choked out, but didn't stop her. "Answer me."

Sienna opened true blue eyes and smiled with rose-red lips. "Mr. York wanted her to make it for him. I don't know too much about it, only what Natalie told me, but he needs magic from mages for it. She had the contacts and the facilities in place. Only now..." She dropped her voice. "She's not playing so nice. She cut back his supply at first, saying that she wanted more of a profit, then she stopped it completely. What he has now is all of it, that's why it's so expensive." She bit her lips together then, as if wondering if she'd said too much.

"Your boss is commissioning Madam Genève to traffic people so he can have this drug?" He shouldn't be surprised, Innisfil was the birth place of sinners and slaves, it was in its red waters, it was in its depraved population. Everyone was polluted.

"I don't think it went quite like that. Mr. York is… he's…" She searched for the right word. "He has _standards_ ," she said finally. "He would never tell Madam to do what she's doing."

Jellal shook his head. Sienna… she was as naive as ever. "You really believe that?"

"Natalie does, and I believe Natalie. If you met him, you'd know," she said. "Mr. York takes care of his people. He has no control over what Madam does. He was upset when he learned how she was doing things, that's part of the reason they're on the outs now."

Jellal squeezed her thighs. "Sienna…" _Fuck_.

"I know what you're thinking, but Mr. York really is better than Madam ever was. He's _nice_ to us, Jellal. He pays us well, and we're not just whores here, forced to walk the streets dangerously when business is slow. We work in his hotel; we service _those_ customers."

"If that's the case, then why the fuck did I find you getting felt up by that guy?" he challenged.

She raised a perfectly sculpted brow. "I was taking a break. Mr. Krane…" She twisted her lips to the left. "A month ago he blew his fortune at Gomorrah and lost everything. His wife left him and took his kids. He lives on Juniper Avenue now." She named a section of the city that was reserved for public housing. "Mr. York banned him from Gomorrah, but he still comes by and tries to play the tables every now and then. Usually, he gets kicked out before he can get in—everyone knows him now—so he hangs around out back and waits for me."

"Why you?"

She shrugged. "I'm his favorite. Weren't you anyone's favorite, Jellal?"

Her words were like being punched in the gut.

"Sorry," Sienna said gently and brushed his hair back from his forehead. "The Vault wasn't—"

"The old Vault got burned to the ground. Where is the new one?" he interjected.

"I don't know."

"I don't believe you," he told her.

Sienna shrugged. "Believe me or not. If you're not going to pay, I should probably get going. Mr. York likes us to see to as many guests as we can." She tried to get up but Jellal tightened his hold on her thighs.

"Sienna, please."

She sat back down but said, "I shouldn't have said anything, Jellal. This is Mr. York's personal business, and if he knew Natalie was telling me, and then I was telling you, all of us would be in trouble. I would lose my job; Natalie would be mad at me—"

"I won't say anything. No one would know it came from you."

"But they would," she said. "You know as well as I do that there are ears everywhere in Innisfil."

Definitely. "There was a time when _we_ were those ears. Habits like that don't die. You _know_ , Sienna." He knew she did.

She bit her lip, wavering. "There are sometimes men hire escorts."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"And there is a spot that is popular for Innisfil tourists with a taste for the sumptuous, the curious, and bizarre."

He frowned. "It's there? The Vault?"

"I couldn't say, but it's an interesting place, with interesting people."

"Then take me." He tapped her legs. "Come on."

"Not tonight," she told him.

"Why the hell not?"

She leaned over him, long hair dropping around his face like a cage. "Because it's almost sunrise and I need to make another five hundred." She dropped a kiss to his chin; he understood well enough what she meant. "Can you pay?"

His erection was back despite himself. "You'll take me to this place?" Bartering was a system all of Madam's children knew well, and sex was the currency they understood best.

Sienna snuck her hand down between their bodies and started rubbing herself. "I'll have to make sure it's alright with Mr. York. And he may want to meet you, if you plan on taking me out of Gomorrah." Her eyes flicked up to his, studying where his mark was only half-hidden now, the makeup sweated off. "Which means we're going to have to fix that." Her voice got low and throaty; she was obviously enjoying herself. "Did you have another place to stay, Jellal?"

"I just got into town when I ran into you," he told her, fighting hard to remain undistracted.

She nodded. "Then stay here. He'll like it more that you're spending money in his hotel. Maybe you should go down to the casino, too, so people can see you. It'll make him more comfortable."

"Is that necessary?"

"He's very protective of us, I told you. Do we have an agreement, then?"

"You could tell me where it is and I could go myself tonight."

"I could…" She dropped her face to his neck and licked. "But they'd never let you in, not without some sort of clout. No offence, but you're a nobody here now, Jellal." Not that being one of Madam's whores ever meant that they were _somebody._ "It's a place like Gomorrah, only for the rich."

"I'm not rich."

"Of course not, but you know as well as I do, Innisfil is all about masquerades. Show up with one of Julian York's girls on your arm, a fine suit that says you're _someone_ , that cocky smile I _know_ you have, and who knows what can happen?"

That was a difficult concept for Jellal to master; since the Tower of Heaven, he had spent years trying to be _no one_ , trying to blend in with the shadows. This… it felt like going against everything he knew. "This place, it's everything you say it is? I'm not just wasting my time?"

"The only way you'll know that for certain is if you go. So, do we have a deal or don't we, Jellal? Because I've been up for a long time, my shift is almost done, Natalie is waiting for me and Mr. York will want me to check in soon."

"As long as you hold up your end of the bargain."

She smiled widely. "I wouldn't dream of doing anything else." Lifting her body, she started to paw back the sheets, slowly, teasingly, looking for Jellal under the chiffon. Her fingers brushed him and he jumped.

"Wait."

Sienna lifted her gaze, a cat's smile on her mouth. "What?"

"Do you…"

"Have any more Illusion?" she supplied when he trailed off.

 _You shouldn't_. But he thought this was the only way he'd ever have Erza Scarlet. _No one has to know._ He couldn't make himself ask, though. That was alright, Sienna had seen more than enough ashamed men and knew exactly what kind of treatment to give them. Taking charge, she snatched her round container off the messed up bed and took out another green, minty sheet.

"Open your mouth."

He met her eyes so he could watch them turn from blue to brown.

* * *

Innisfil wasn't like any place Erza had ever been before. The very _air_ felt different. By the time she arrived, it was nearing four in the morning, and yet the streets were still full of people, men and women coming out of bars, or hanging around coffee houses. She couldn't tell if the latter had just opened, or if they never closed. The streets were well-tended cobblestone, gardens kissing each side of the lane. Performers busked, dancers danced, men joked and women laughed. Yet for all of its smiling façade, it felt somehow dark.

Cresting a tall hill, a red glow caught her attention. It took her a long time to understand what it was she was looking at.

"Scarlet Lake," said a voice over her shoulder. "The waters that keep all of our sins."

Erza turned, heart in her throat. She was starting to _seriously_ question her prowess. That was the _second_ time she'd been snuck up on.

There was a man standing entirely too close to her. It took her all of three seconds to size up and break him down. The easy set of his shoulders told her that he was cocky, his hands slung casually in his pants pocket told her that he was relaxed. This was his city. She lifted her gaze and studied his face. He was tall and fit, handsome enough with dark eyes, shaggy, auburn hair and a thin, well-trimmed beard.

"Are you lost?" He had an unusual accent, one that was nice, the o's long drawn out.

"I'm not lost," she replied, then decided that if she was going to hunt down Jellal, she had to start somewhere. "I'm looking for someone. His name is Jellal Fernandez. He has a tattoo, here." She motioned over her right eye. "And blue hair, and…" Describing the only man she'd ever thought about should have been easy, shouldn't it? But no. It was then she realized that years of pining for someone she couldn't have totally warped her idea of him. Everything about him was fantastic, so how could she choose any particular feature to describe him?

He smiled and swiped a segment of his cheek, showing a tattoo just like Jellal's. "One like this?"

Erza's breath stalled. Her heart hammered. "Exactly."

His mouth pulled back in a nice smile. "I think I can help you."

Erza couldn't believe her luck. "Really?"

He went fishing in his pocket and pulled out a small container. "Your armour is fine, well taken care of. Am I to assume you can pay?"

Erza thought of the ruby she hocked. She should have had more than enough money. "Yes. Anything."

"That's what I like to hear. Open your mouth." He opened his container and drew out a thin green sheet, one of many.

Erza's brows knitted together. "For what?"

His smile was still casual. "Don't fear. You're safe. This is the way to see your Jellal."

Erza was still wary. "I'm not a fool, I'm not just going to let you feed me some weird—"

"You know how this works, right?" he asked shortly. "You pay me and—"

"Yes, I _know_ , but what kind of idiot do you think I am to let you feed me that—"

"Not one that sees her love, obviously." He started walking away.

His words stabbed through her. Erza bit her cheek hard, watching the man slink into the darkness. _He's going. Your only lead._ She tried telling herself that she hadn't tried _very_ hard, there was likely someone else that had seen Jellal, but…

She dispelled her armour and anything valuable save five hundred dollars to pay the man, just in case. "Wait."

He stopped immediately and turned back to look at her, dark eyes flashing by the light of the moon. "Change your mind, lassie?" His eyes widened only slightly at the sight of her wardrobe change. Though the skirt and shirt were modest, Erza had a strong desire to cross her arms over her body while he took her in. She wouldn't give into that.

"Show me Jellal."

He came back, brandishing that green sliver. Erza took it from his hands, determining that if she was going to do this, she was going to feed herself, damn it. "I swear, if you're trying to trick me, if you steal from me, or—or anything else, I will drop you in the deepest bog you've ever seen."

"Of course."

She placed the rectangle on her tongue. It tasted just like mint. It started to dissolve. The world dropped away. Erza, disoriented, threw her hand out and touched a solid brick wall. As soon as the contact was made, it was like the world started to put itself back together again. She found the red haired man. Only… only his face was changing. His hair bled from red to blue. His beard dropped away. He got taller, a little wider. His tattoo became pronounced.

 _Jellal._

"Come, scarlet hair." He waved her into an alley between a music shop and a café.

Erza followed.

* * *

 **A/N** : So, I think I lied. I actually like Julian. He's… ah. Poison. Maybe he'll make a cameo.

Seriously now. Let's break something down. It's the most important think I'll ever say to you.

 _Go check out July Talk. Push and Pull._ That song.

That one song.

It's my soulmate.

Watch the video. It's the kind of decadence and excessiveness and irresponsibility I imagine in Innisfil. It makes my heart beat. It makes my world turn. It makes my lungs fill with air.

 _Go look._ And if you're not in love… well… we can't be friends. I'm joshing. But it is a fucking cool ass song.


	4. Chapter 4

Erza's head was full of cobwebs of the dustiest variety. And she was cold. Then a blanket draped around her body and a familiar voice— _Jella's_ voice—said, "Sleep, scarlet hair."

"She doesn't look like very much," said another voice she didn't know. "But you're right, she's definitely a mage."

"A powerful one, too, I think. Madam Genève would enjoy her hair quite a bit, if I were inclined to share," said the first voice. The longer he spoke, the less familiar it became.

"Genève doesn't ever deserve anything from us. You should take her to the Hive. If you tell them she's a maiden she'll fetch a good price at auction."

"And when they find out she's not? They'd kill me."

"With the money you'd get from her both of us could be long gone before they found out. Freedom, Riley. Just think of it."

There was silence. Then, "I can't, Sie. I want to be free, but..."

"Then let me do it, close your eyes and look the other way."

"I—"

Erza didn't know what was going on, but she didn't like it. Struggling to open her eyes she groaned, not quite able to help herself. The sound of shuffling feet told her she was being approached.

"We'll sell her and never think about her again. We'll go to a beach and forget all this." A sharp, pungent smell hit the air. Erza's nose burned as something was thrust beneath it. Her head really began to spin.

"Sie, don't!" hissed the man that had, for the briefest moments, used Jellal's voice. _Jellal…_ and _not_ Jellal, Erza understood. Maybe she would have felt shame for her actions, if she wasn't so goddamn scared now. _Move, move, move._ Her body was a thousand pounds of dead weight.

"I'm _helping_ us, Riley."

"I don't want this kind of help. You know as well as I do, anyone that would buy her would do so to use her."

"That's the way things are done in Innisfil; you should know that. Help me get her to the auction house. We'll split the profit half and half."

"No."

"Riley—"

"I said, no, and if you keep going, Sie, I'm going to—"

The threat went unrealized. There was a click, the sound of metal unfolding from metal, then a wet tearing. Weak, gurgling breaths filled the room next. Erza knew the sound of death. _Get up, get up. Get. Up._ She couldn't.

"I'm sorry, Riley, but that's a lot of money to a guy like me. I have a chance to be free. I can't let this opportunity pass. I want to go home."

Erza heard a thump and had to assume Riley fell to the floor. Then hands came and pulled the blanket back from her body. She was immediately freezing again. She willed her eyes to focus but will alone wasn't strong enough to make her body obey. Her vision was still bleary; the only thing she saw was for certain was a flash of purple. The nothing of unconsciousness came to her.

* * *

When Jellal woke he was alone in his room and short by two grand. Sienna had helped herself to more than they'd agreed upon. He thought about being angry, then saw the suit she left behind for him. It was navy blue, with a black dress shirt and a navy coloured tie. Everything was finer than anything he'd ever owned before. Way too nice to buy with the money she took. He wondered where it came from, then decided when everything fit that he didn't much care. Stripping down again he went to the largest and most elaborate washroom he'd ever seen.

Most of Gomorrah's lavishness was lost on him, though he was aware of all the marble and real silver-trimmed mirror. Garish wasn't the half of it.

Stepping into the shower he tried to wash off last night's sin, but in Innisfil, no one ever really got clean. _Maybe you don't want to forget_. And why would he? Illusion made it easy to believe it had been the real Erza kissing his mouth, the true red haired beauty propping herself up on the bed and begging him to do things to her he'd only imagined in his filthiest, most R rated fantasies. Immediately his cock was hard again. Resigned, he stood under the hot spray and took care of it, last night's bawdiness his inspiration.

When he was finished, the shower was off and he was mostly dry, he exited into the main room with a towel around his waist and was met by Sienna. The girl sat casually on his bed, long legs crossed, fingers laced primly together on her knee. Tonight she wore a blue lace dress that he thought should have had a slip beneath, but there was only the pale of ivory skin to grace his eyes. No bra, and he'd bet no panties, too.

"Evening," she said with a smile that Jellal was sure melted many a man's heart. He hardened himself to it.

"Evening?"

She tapped her watch. "Just after six, actually."

How the hell did it get so late?

Sienna read his expression. "Illusion takes a lot out of you. And to have two hits in one night…" She winked. "Don't worry though, sweetie, you did just fine."

There was the knowledge that he should have felt shame, but after their night together, there was hardly a secret between them.

"I see you got your suit." She nodded to the chair. "It fits?"

"Yeah."

She smiled. "Good."

Jellal couldn't help but add, "Not too expensive, I hope?"

Sienna was shameless. "I actually didn't even pay for it, but thanks for the bonus, it _was_ kind of difficult to find the perfect one. Natalie helped me pick this one out."

Typical Sienna. He couldn't even be mad at her for it, not really. "Natalie's the girl you stuck around for?"

Sienna got a wistful look in her eye. "She's the one. _And,_ " she drawled, "She also grabbed me a little something extra for tonight."

"What?"

"It's in the jacket pocket. Go ahead, take a look," she prodded when he was stationary.

Cautiously, Jellal grabbed the suit jacket from the chair and held it up. He hadn't noticed before, whether because he was still out of it earlier or he just hadn't been paying attention, but the inner pocket bulged. He was almost afraid to look. His fingers were met with the stiff edge of something familiar. Carefully, he pulled out the largest wad of cash he'd ever seen.

"Where the hell did this come from?"

"It's probably safer for your health if you don't know," she told him.

"Sienna, tell me—"

"No—"

He gave her a hard look and she sighed, tossing her hands in the air. "Fine. It's Mr. York's—"

He didn't even let her finish. "Take it back."

"Keep it, Jellal. You're going to need money to fit in at the Hive and, no offence, but you're just not packing in quite that way."

She should know; she almost cleaned him out. "You don't think your boss is going to notice ten grand—"

"Twenty-five," she corrected. Jellal fought to keep his mouth from dropping open. Sienna said, "And no, he won't."

"Don't be an idiot—"

"Mr. York is really paranoid. He hides money all over the place just in case, but he always forgets where he puts it. This stuff was sewn into the fabric of some of his old suits. Natalie said he didn't even know the suits were there when she asked about them this morning. He told her he didn't wear them anymore and to get rid of them."

Jellal quieted. What would it be like to have so much money that he actually forgot he had it? He'd been on the run for so long, living under the radar and just _getting by_ that he forgot what it was like just to have what he needed when he needed it. He wouldn't complain, though, this was his punishment.

"Let's go down to Gomorrah for a bit. You can get some breakfast—Sonny's serves it all day—play some tables…" She shot him a sideways look. "Do you still…"

Lose horribly and never know when to quit? Who knew? It'd been a huge problem when he was thirteen with little concept of money or debt. In the Vault's small gambling house, Genève let her whores participate to pass the time. They never had any money to gamble. Their debts, if they racked up, were payed in different ways.

At first Jellal enjoyed it because he'd throw the dice and watch some rich man with rough hands be forced to hand his hard-earned money over. _Then_ he enjoyed it because Genève allowed her children to keep the money they won, though it was never so much as to make any sort of difference to their situations. Then Jellal loved gambling just because he did, though it seemed like the longer he played the worse he became. Finally, Genève banned her children from participating because while it was bringing in customers as she thought it might, she was losing too much money in what they had to pay out in favours.

 _Don't think about it._ "It's fine now," he said abruptly. It would be. That was so long ago...

Sienna looked like she was going to add something. It passed. "If you say so. There is a craps table. I know you liked it."

"Alright." That hollowness was back in his chest, and not for Illusion this time. He started to get dressed, aware of Sienna watching the towel drop away. She came to him when his pants were up and he was struggling with the black dress shirt she'd left for him. Brushing his hands away she did up the buttons expertly, going all the way up around his throat. Jellal felt like he was choking though it truly wasn't too tight. He started tucking the hem into his pants while Sienna grabbed the tie and came back, wrapping it around his throat and tying it with nimble fingers.

"Mr. York said he did want to meet you," she said as she worked. "I'm going to put that stuff on your face again. Just be sure not to touch it, alright? I don't know what he'd do if he thought one of Madam's boys were in his casino."

"Things are that tense between them?"

She met his eyes. "He'd never tell me for certain and risk revealing a weakness, but why chance it?"

"Your boss doesn't sound like a very nice guy."

"You don't get anywhere in Innisfil by being nice," Sienna said simply. "You know that, Jellal. That's why Ingin is sharing Scarlet Lake with the fish."

 _'I was a monster before I was a man_.' Yes. Innisfil bred monsters, not men.

Sienna tightened the tie so it was snug, then grabbed his coat and helped him into it. When he was put together she straightened the material around his shoulders, tugged at it around his waist, then leaned back and looked at him with a critical eye. "You look handsome. You should wear stuff like this more often."

"My work doesn't really allow for this kind of thing," Jellal said after entertaining a ridiculous fantasy of leading Crime Sorceire in fine garb like this. Just no.

Sienna pouted. "Well, come here." She tugged him into the bathroom and pushed him up against the counter while she produced her makeup container from the small silver bag slung over her shoulder. Her fingers were cool and smelled like lavender hand cream. The pad she used to apply the makeup was cotton and well used. She was done in no time. Then she got out pomade that smelled like pine and started taming his messy hair.

"Perfect," she said when she was done.

Jellal turned to look in the mirror. He didn't look like himself at all. No, he was nice and prim, like a proper liar with slicked back hair and a face clear of tattoos. As much as he hated it, he missed Madam's mark.

"One last kiss before we brave the lion's den?" Sienna asked with a wink after he gave his nod of approval.

"And how much is that going to cost?" he asked sarcastically.

Sienna shrugged. "If you're a good boy tonight? Maybe nothing."

He snorted but his mind kept going towards Erza. Or the Erza Sienna could pretend to be. Illusion was poison. Addicting, not just physically but mentally.

"Whoever she is, she's really done you in, huh?" Sienna asked when she saw him actually considering her.

Jellal only said, "Let's go."

* * *

Casino Gomorrah was white marble floors, white walls, a black ceiling with low lighting, glitzy women and well-dressed men. Servers were everywhere, dressed alluringly while they carried hors-d'oeuvres and alcohol. Sienna snagged two fluted glasses from a passing woman and handed one to Jellal. He took it and sipped. It helped calm him when all he could think about was the dinging of slot machines and the catcalls from the roulette and craps tables.

"Why don't you head on over there, Jellal? See what kind of trouble you can get into while I find Mr. York?" Sienna asked.

Jellal's throat felt parched. "Yeah."

"And remember, don't touch your face. And relax. I'm sure he'll be okay with me going to the Hive, he just worries about us sometimes."

"What's he so worried about?"

"That you'll try to sell me. He had it happen just a few months ago, one of his favorite girls. He's more careful now. Just be your charming self. You still remember how to do that, right?"

Right? _Magnifique_. The smile he saved for Madam's customers. He tried it.

Sienna grinned back. "There you are." She pushed him toward the tables then disappeared.

Jellal felt like a man stepping towards the gallows.

* * *

"You're not much of a gambler, Mr. Fernandez, are you?" asked a gravel-rough voice over his shoulder. Stiffening, Jellal turned and looked into an unfamiliar face. The man was tall, with dark blue eyes and a thick dark beard. His hair was slicked back from his high peaked forehead and on his shoulders was an expensive looking suit.

Just looking at him, Jellal knew he wasn't a guest. The banker at the table took his money. He didn't even know how much he'd lost. Too much; he'd been there for an hour already, though it seemed like only minutes. It was time to quit. Putting his back to the table he said, "I think I'm at a disadvantage. You are?" Though he knew well enough.

The man stuck out his hand. "Julian York."

Julian York. The same Julian York that had contracted Madam Genève to harvest slaves again. Though he entertained killing him, Jellal gritted his teeth and tried to look past all that, taking his hand in a firm shake.

"Welcome to Casino Gomorrah. We're always happy to welcome men like you."

 _Men like me_? Men that lose all of their money, or did Sienna tell him something extravagant? With that girl, who knew?

"I'm sure you'll find plenty here to enjoy. We have the finest of everything." Julian waved, encompassing the busy, bustling casino. Jellal followed his hand and caught sight of the stage over the man's shoulder where a curvy burlesque dancer started her routine. The music kicked on, a recording of a woman who sang in the same language Madam Genève spoke. Her voice was beautiful and lilting, in direct contradiction with the fast-paced swing music that was her background.

Jellal looked away from the dancer and said, "So it would seem."

"One might say you needn't venture out of my casino, and yet Sienna tells me you've an interest in going to the Hive." He took two drinks off a passing tray held aloft by a man in an open vest. He passed one to Jellal. Jellal took it diligently and sipped. It was his fifth such drink of the night but he wasn't even remotely lightheaded; he was too nervous for that.

When he swallowed he said, "Normally I would agree, but Sienna made a hard case."

"Did she?"

Jellal wondered if he'd gotten her into trouble.

Julian said, "She is right, it's something to see, though it is also a dangerous place for a hapless traveller. Gomorrah would certainly be safer for the inexperienced."

Jellal smiled and couldn't help but say, "Are you trying to convince me to continue losing my fortune here?"

Julian wrapped his arm around Jellal's shoulders, pulling him in close like they were friends. "I don't have to convince men like you, Mr. Fernandez. You love the tables, don't you, even if they don't love you."

Julian's observation was so on point, Jellal had to wonder if his addiction to the thrill was that obvious. And if _that_ was so blatant, what other things did he intuit? More than Jellal wanted to share? But of course, Julian York had seen all kinds of men and women move through his casino. He knew all of their tells. Jellal didn't like being marginalized, though. "I'll admit, it's better when I'm not spending my own money."

Julian laughed. "Isn't that the truth?"

The jab went unappreciated, but Jellal knew whose money was in his pocket and that would have to be enough.

"Where do you come from, Jellal?"

"Just a small town in the south," he evaded.

"And what brings you to Innisfil?"

Jellal got the impression that Julian was a shark, waiting for the proper moment to ambush his prey. Jellal endeavored to be both careful and relaxed. "Scarlet Lake." _That_ answer came easy. With its bright bioluminescence, the unique body of water drew people in from miles and miles around. It was the kind of sight that stuck with a man. In fact, it was for it's violent colour that he'd dubbed Erza 'Scarlet' so many years ago.

Julian accepted his answer. "Sienna tells me you've made your fortune producing lacrimas."

Did she? What the fuck? Jellal was careful to keep his face totally neutral. It wouldn't be good to look surprised. "Yes. I've done quite well."

"I think maybe you and I should have a conversation later, Mr. Fernandez. I may have some work for a man of your skills."

And he and Sienna were going to have a chat, he decided. "I'd like that." _Maybe you can take care of Madam Genève and just disappear before then._

Julian clapped him on the shoulder. "You seem like a well enough sort."

Not the sort of man that had imprisoned children and forced them into slave labour. Not the sort of man that tried to kill the woman he loved and still dreamed of it some days. Not the sort of man that couldn't tell if, in those dreams, he was laughing manically or crying. He was always good at hiding the monster.

"But," Julian continued, "I just wanted to make sure to have a chat. You can never be too careful. The world is full of strange people. I don't know if Sienna told you or not, but I let my girls make up their own rules. They know what's good for them. Seems fair, right? Some of them are good with girls, some are good with guys, some are good with both. Some will do just one, others will do ten. Suzy wants it in the ass but Sally doesn't. I want them to get what they want and _only_ what they want, know what I'm saying? I want to be a cut above all the others trying to stake claim in Innisfil.

"I stay out of their business until the rules are broken. My girls are always sure to let me know. I just want to make sure Sienna's boundaries are respected," Julian said. "And I wanted to pass on a rule of my own. Sometimes people get strange ideas at the Hive, especially when they see women of Sienna's caliber. She isn't for sale, and if I find out that you _did_ try to sell her, or even thought about it, I know a few good lakebeds that don't tell secrets."

Jellal kept his face perfectly blank. "Wouldn't dream of it." Scarlet Lake kept what it took. Always.

"I hope not. Enjoy yourselves." He patted Jellal on the shoulder one more time, tapped his champagne glass, then disappeared into the crowd.

Sienna appeared from a group of old, fawning men, on her arm a shapely brunette. Coming to a stop in front of him, the dark haired girl looked Jellal over. "Looks like maybe you lucked out, Sienna."

"Jellal gets by," she said with an exaggerated wink.

Jellal gave her a flat look.

The brunette shivered. "Does he give you that look in bed, too?"

Sienna laughed. "Natalie, I promised I wouldn't tell any of his secrets."

Jellal appreciated the sentiment but just by looking at the two of them he knew that once the curtains were drawn and the comforters were pushed back the rules would change. Mattress secrets were the best kind. The most coveted. The filthiest. Loose legs bred loose lips. Madam Genève taught them that, and the information they gleaned from their clients was used to always give her the upper hand. No one dared to shirk paying Madam Genève when she knew all of their darkest tales.

Jellal watched Natalie lean in and kiss Sienna thoroughly. When she broke away she said, "Be a good girl and don't forget about me." Then she released Sienna and twitched away.

Sienna watched her until she disappeared, then turned back to Jellal, smile wide. "Are you ready, Jellal?"

"Let's just get out of here." He wanted to find out about Madam Genève so he could put an end to her and get out of this goddamn city before all of his secrets came into the light and he had nowhere to hide.

* * *

They walked, Sienna's arm slung through his like she was his proper escort.

"You _will_ have to pay you know?" she said.

"Is it really paying if I'm using Julian York's money?"

"I won't look at it too closely and neither should you," she replied.

"Which reminds me, what the hell is this bullshit he's saying about lacrimas?"

Sienna flushed. "I wanted to give him a reason to take an interest in you. He's been looking for someone to make him anti-magic lacrimas."

"Yeah, thanks. Sienna, I can't do that stuff."

"So lie. You're not staying in Innisfil, are you? and once you're done, you don't plan on coming back., right?"

She made it sound so easy. "This is going to come back and bite me." He could feel it.

Sienna ignored him. "So, when we get to the Hive, let me talk to Andre at the door. He'll let us in no problem; he likes me."

"Is there a man in this city that doesn't?" She'd always had a certain… je ne sais quoi. People liked her. Men, women, it didn't matter. She knew how to make them tick and that was why Madam was so enthralled with her. Jellal pulled his face into his pretender's smile, his _magnifique_ smile, reliving Madam's fingers through his hair. "Do you miss the Vault?"

Sienna looked at him from under a line of full lashes. Maybe they were fake, but they still made her look exotic. "Sometimes. You?"

"Yes." Sometimes. It was the place that had cultivated the monster; how could he not look at it fondly? It was what gave him the strength to do what he loved doing. Ingin was just the beginning.

 _The beginning?_ Jellal fought the urge to press his fingers into his temples, as if a physical _push_ would straighten his thoughts out. That kind of thinking… he'd dubbed it as Tower Speak, a throwback to the Ultear days. _I did what I did to Ingin because it's what he deserved. Not because I liked it._

 _Not._

For now, the lie held, though the dam it was trapped behind was weary and rotted. _It's this city._ Innisfil was a monument to all of his sins.

Sienna took a left. Aurum Avenue and all of its neon lights made way for a quieter section of the city. Huron Boulevard _used_ to be industrial. Now it looked like it was undergoing a transformation.

"Mr. York purchased a good portion of this," Sienna said when she caught him looking. "He plans on tearing these buildings down and putting up things like restaurants and clubs and cafés."

"He really does want to own the whole city."

"He almost owns all of it already. Only the Hive remains untouched here, and it won't stay that way for long. It's owned by a woman named Dee Vander. All of the girls that come into Innisfil to be sold come through here. Julian's trying to buy her out because he doesn't like the trade, he thinks it's barbaric and it undermines his business." She said it like she was quoting someone word-for-word. "But she's stubborn and has some kind of truce with Madam Genève . Natalie thinks the way to get her in Julian's hand is if Julian makes a better deal with her."

"You've been away from the Vault for a long time, Sienna," Jellal interjected.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"You talk too much about things you probably shouldn't."

She actually flushed. "Don't you want to know what's been happening to your city?"

"Innisfil doesn't belong to me anymore." If he told himself that enough maybe it would be true.

Sienna pouted. "Fine, whatever. The Hive's in here." She tugged him past an old fire hydrant into a butcher shop that looked abandoned. The door opened without a sound. Inside the lights were off save for one lonely candle. The air still smelled like blood and cleaning fluid, though all of the counters and shelves had a thick layer of dust over them.

"Doesn't look like much."

"Not here," Sienna agreed. Walking over the floor, her stiletto heels clicked loudly. Confidently, she made her way to the back of the shop, pushed aside a clear plastic barrier and let him into what used to be the kitchen. An ancient rust-covered sink took up a large portion of the back wall. An old meat grinder and slicer sat on the counter beside it, and beside that was a wall of knives. It looked like a fully functioning butcher shop, but it was just like everyone packed up one day and left everything exactly as it was. it was sort of creepy, actually, with its huge meat hooks hanging over the tile floor that was dotted with drains. There was probably a disgusting amount of blood in those drain pipes.

Sienna took him to the back of the shop where a huge freezer door waited. She pulled it open. As soon as she did that sound drifted out. Jellal looked over her shoulder. It was dark beyond. Incredibly so.

"Take my hand," Sienna said. Jellal obeyed. Two steps in, the door swung closed behind them, throwing them into utter darkness. Though he was all but blind, he felt and heard her descending what must have been stairs. Reaching out he searched for a wall and found it. It was cold, brick. One foot forward, he found the first step. Then the other. It was easy after that. Then he realized why: it was getting lighter again. Inlaid in the wall were things that looked like lightning bugs. They were dim at first, but with every step they lightened.

Dark music floated out from down below, leading them down, down, down.

"Stay by me. Let me lead," Sienna said. "Don't mention Madam. If she's here, you'll know."

"Why does she come here?" Jellal could just barely see Sienna's outline.

"To look for the most unique whore she can buy," Sienna said.

The steps evened out and a flickering torch came into view. They were in a basement. Ahead of them were two of the largest men Jellal had ever seen. Wearing garb that looked more like underwear than clothes, they guarded a huge metal door. Sienna walked up to them without fear.

"Hello, Andre."

The man on the left, a guy with a thick scar bisecting his chest and fists that looked larger than barrels, smiled down upon her. "Sienna. It has been a long time." The way he spoke reminded Jellal of Ingin. _Eet_ instead of _it._

"Is there a good crowd tonight?"

"One of the better ones I've seen. The exotics Miss Dee has brought in tonight are…" he struggled.

"Exotic?" Sienna supplied with a fierce grin. Andre blushed. "Let us in, Andre."

"Who is this man?" Andre asked, pointing to Jellal.

Sienna reached behind herself and grasped Jellal's hand. "A personal friend of Mr. York's."

The lie came out easy.

Andre looked directly at Jellal. "What business do you have here?"

"He just wants to look around, Andre. He's never been to a place like this," Sienna spoke up.

"Miss Dee asked that we put an end to that. Sorry, Sienna."

"Come on, Andre—"

"If he's not here buying then he cannot enter."

The door opened behind Andre and a man with a frightened looking woman exited.

Sienna begged, "Please—"

"No."

Hit with inspiration, Jellal spoke up. "I'm looking." His mouth tasted like iron and bile.

Sienna looked over her shoulder. "Jellal—"

"You expect me to believe this lie?" _Theeze._

Jellal put on his best face and grabbed Sienna's arm. "I'm looking to sell, actually."

Sienna's eyes got wide. "Jellal—"

"Lies," Andre said. "Mr. York would never sell Sienna—"

"You don't know him very well then."

"Why _would_ he? She's one of his favorite—"

"That's private."

Andre crossed his arms. "If you can't tell me why, I can't let you in. The last guy that sold one of Julian York's women found himself in Scarlet Lake."

Jellal looked at the other bouncer. "You can't expect me to tell you when so many people are listening."

"Jellal, please," Sienna tried.

He squeezed her arm until she winced and quivered. She was legitimately scared. He pushed out the part that liked her fear and _focused._

Andre frowned. "Very well. Go, Eris." The other man stepped away without a word. Andre nodded to Jellal. "Why would Julian York sell one of his best girls?"

"Because he caught one of his best girls pinching his money and giving it to one of her lowlife childhood friends. This is how she's going to pay it back." All the best lies were based in truth.

"Jellal—" Sienna started to whimper. "No—I"

"I said shut up, Sienna," he said icily.

"Please. If he wants the money back, I'll work extra hard. I'll give him everything—"

"You know as well as I do it isn't enough. He wants you to learn a lesson, Sienna. This is a fitting punishment." He lied too well; he almost believed it. Sienna's quivering lip and teary eyes certainly helped matters.

"Please—"

"I'll buy her from you, right here," Andre said.

Jellal startled; he hadn't been expecting… "Julian wants premium coin for her. I doubt you can pay."

"How much?"

Jellal scrambled and named an enormous amount, hoping that it was too much for a regular girl.

He almost laughed in relief when Andre's shoulders sank. "Go on in."

Jellal, Sienna's elbow still in hand, shoved past the man and into the place known as the Hive.

It was a wide open room beyond with a huge stage. The entire thing was illuminated by red and black lights. Couches and coffee tables dotted the entire room. On almost every surface were men and women. Some were in leather and collars with cat ears and cat tails. Some had top hats and fine suits, some were in torn, shredded clothing. Some wore nothing at all.

"That wasn't a very nice trick," Sienna said.

"It got us in."

"I hope word doesn't get back to Julian. He'll be furious."

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained?" He'd deal with Julian York if he needed to.

"You're just as brazen as ever. Good thing for you I'm _excellent_ at improvisation and I have a flare for the dramatic."

Jellal didn't respond, something else had caught his attention. A peak into a room off the main section revealed what could only be described as an orgy. At the doorway a silver haired girl with large breasts, pink lips and a cock in her mouth met his gaze and held it far beyond what could ever be considered comfortable. Jellal tore his eyes away, body both hot and cold. "Are they slaves or whores?"

"Neither," Sienna said. "They're people that like to be watched. Why?" She gave him a sideways look. "You want to try out the sweat room?"

"Nope, especially not after you called it that," Jellal replied.

"You're no fun."

"We're not here for fun," he reminded her. "We're here for—"

"Yes, yes," she said snippily. "They're starting the auction soon. She'll want to see the newest stock so if she's here we'll know it. Come." She led him towards a couch full of scantily clad women. "This section is for those that buy and sell," she told him. "And _those_ are the women looking to be bought. Make sure you have that smile ready."

Looking at the women with professionally done makeup, stuffed into outfits that were made to accentuate everything good they had, all he could think was, _what the hell_.

He couldn't tell if that was a resignation, or a question. It didn't matter. With authority he dropped himself in between a blonde and a brunette and like a proper fucking douche drowning in entitlement and decadence he pulled Sienna down on his lap. She nestled in close like she belonged.

"Ladies."

"Hi," one of the girls whispered in his ear. "What exactly are you looking for tonight?"

He put on his Vault smile. "Why don't _you_ show me?"

She grinned and found his inner thigh. "My indenture isn't even that much, and I always have a smile for a man with a gentle hand. I don't mind other women, either" She moved between Sienna's legs to get to Jellal's body and caress him with sure fingers while Sienna leaned back and preened Jellal's hair.

He would have been a lot harder if he could think _past_ the pathetic ploy this girl played; she just wanted to be free, and he wanted to give her freedom. _It's Madam Genève._ She was the driving force for the sex trade here. People sold because she would buy. She was the pillar in this tower of exploitation. He just had to find her and bring her down.

On the stage a tall, reedy man stepped out, a microphone in his hand. "Ladies and gentleman, welcome to the Hive. Tonight we have a line up of exotic beauties from far and wide. Find a seat, the auction will begin shortly."

The girl on Jellal's right, the brunette, handed him a wine glass full of amber liquid. "Cognac," she explained when he looked at it.

Swirling, he took a sip, smothering the wince that started in his toes and worked into his fingers. Sienna took it from his hand and did the same.

Movement caught his eye, a small crowd of people shuffling right past them on their way to the stage. There were six in all, two boys no older than sixteen, and four women. A girl with hair so blonde it looked white, a brunette, a raven haired beauty with piercing almond eyes. And…

"Those are the new ones," Sienna said when she saw him looking. "Find the most beautiful one and you'll know which Madam will be interested in, if she's here."

Jellal's mouth was as dry as chalk looking at her scarlet hair. Even in the black light he could see its colour. It was one that wouldn't be dulled. _It's not_. _It's not her._

Then, as if she felt his eyes upon her body, she turned and met his gaze.


	5. Chapter 5

Jellal stood so abruptly he nearly pushed Sienna to the floor. The only reason she stayed vertical was because a passing man grabbed her elbow and hauled her up. The girls around Jellal cried out, startled by his sudden movements. He barely heard them, he only had eyes for her. Erza.

Erza?

Yes. Absolutely. But _how?_

"Jellal," Sienna said, coming back to stand before him. "What's wrong?"

He couldn't even respond. Feet moving almost without thought, he crossed the floor, reaching, reaching. Erza hadn't stopped looking at him. Her mouth, painted passion fruit red, was parted, her eyes, darkly lined, were glued to his face. He saw she was trying to connect the dots. She kept searching for his tattoo and was confused when it wasn't there. Her face flitted between surety and uncertainty. She'd been dressed in a black silken thing that was _supposed_ to, on some planet, be a dress. It was slitted and held together along the sides by thin ropes, and likewise on the front, so he could see there was nothing at all beneath it. She looked beautiful. And exposed. And frightened. And. And. And he wanted to be the only one to ever see her like this. His extended fingers came within inches of hers. She lifted her hands. Her _handcuffed_ hands.

A sharp pain brought Jellal snapping back to reality. The Hive came alive around him. voices that had been muted seconds ago chimed. People laughed, cheered, clapped, moaned. Another sharp pain made him focus.

"Get the fuck back, are you deaf?"

Jellal found what was making him hurt. A man with a sharp tipped club stabbed at his middle again, hard enough this time to poke through his suit and prick his skin. A small bead of blood trickled down his side. He was suddenly so angry he couldn't think. Grabbing the club, he tore it out of the man's hands and was in the process of turning it around to shove it through his throat when hands, soft and cold, closed around his wrists.

"Jellal," Sienna's voice was high and reedy though she strived to keep it calm. "You'll get your chance to bid on her." She fought to get the club out of his hand. His palms were sweaty, the metal twisted in his grasp. She pinched his forearm hard when he resisted. Finally, some clarity came through Jellal's blind rage. He released the club.

Sienna visibly relaxed. "Sorry, Toomaj," she said to the bouncer. "He's never been to the Hive before; he doesn't know the rules."

Toomaj snatched the club out of her hand and glared at Jellal. "You're not supposed to be up here. No touching the girls until you've won your bid."

Jellal couldn't even respond, because if he did, it would only be to kill the man. Erza was being hauled away. Her mouth was open, she was saying something, but he couldn't hear her over the din. _Fuck_.

Sienna said, "I was just about to tell him that but I wasn't quick enough. Sorry. He just gets excited. Has a thing for redheads."

Toomaj grunted. "You get one warning. If I see you doing it again, I'll haul your ass out, and you won't like how I do it."

Sienna dug her fingers into Jellal's bicep hard. "Come on." She tugged him back towards their couch.

"I need to get her," he said when they were out of Toomaj's earshot.

" _Why_? Who is that?"

"Erza Scarlet," he spat, still trapped in disbelief.

Sienna raised her brows. " _That's_ Erza Scarlet? What the hell is she doing here?"

"Good fucking question, isn't it? I'd have an answer by now if you didn't stop me."

"No, you'd be dead by now if I didn't stop you," she told him.

He didn't correct her, there was no point.

"She'll be sold quickly."

Her words only made him feel crazier. "Sienna—"

"If you want to free her you're going to have to buy her," she cut in.

"How much?"

"Who can say? A girl like her? At least a hundred grand."

At least. He was seventy-five too short. He turned, determined to go back to his original plan. Grab Erza, raze the place. Sienna's grip was rough.

"Jellal, if you even _think_ about doing anything rash, you'll be a dead man."

"No one here is up to that challenge," he bluffed. Who knew? There was always someone better than you.

Sienna shook her head. "If you make it out of the Hive, Julian will kill you for putting me in danger like that."

Jellal shook his head. "Julian York doesn't scare me."

"He should," she replied. "Just do this smart, okay?"

Jellal ground to a halt in the middle of the floor. There were people brushing by him on every side, rushing to find a seat. "What the fuck is the smart way, Sienna?"

She reached down between her breasts and produced a small pocket knife. Flicking open the blade she stepped out in front of a richly dressed old man and smiled, sweeter than what she could ever hope to be.

"Monsieur—have you yet to have the pleasure of an exotic girl?" The man tried to back up a step but Sienna was right there with him, following his every move. Her hands worked quickly at his waist, up his chest. "If you're here to buy, you needn't stick around for the auction. I'm available for purchase." Her eastern accent was uncanny.

"I already have my sights set, and no offense, Madam, but you do not have the right equipment."

Another rich, entitled man looking for a young boy to entertain himself with when the lights went out. Jellal's fury was only escalating.

Sienna smiled and stepped to the side, waving him on. "Of course, my apologies."

"What good was that?" Jellal asked after a moment where Sienna just watched the man disappear into the crowd.

The redhead turned back to him, a grin on her face. She held up the hand that had, until seconds ago, been behind her back. In it she held a large pouch bulging with what could only be coin. "Monsieur Leroy has a type, Mr. Fernandez. He always comes looking for the same thing. The boys. And he always strives to outbid Madam Genève. It's a rivalry they have. That pair of boys there will go for more than your girl."

Jellal snatched the coin out of her hand. "You better be right."

"Come on. Let's go see how much we got." She took his hand and started pulling him towards a back room just as the reedy man took the stage again.

"Ladies and gentlemen." The room got silent while everyone turned to look at the stage. Jellal's heart beat a mile a minute.

"Fuck," Sienna cursed. "No time to count now."

Nope.

"Our first girl comes to us tonight from the northern shores of Fiore," the man on stage continued. "She goes by the name of Erza. A maiden with a sharp tongue, she'll never leave you bored." He waved behind himself and the black curtain parted. Someone—if Jellal could see who he would have burned them up right where they stood—shoved her out. She tripped on the red, four inch heels she'd been forced to wear and barely caught herself. Jellal watched her whip back, furious, and knew she was about to cause trouble. Some men came out of the stage sides. One carried a small needle. Jellal watched, helpless, as they turned their bodies away from the crowd and jabbed the sharp object into her neck. What was in it that made Erza's eyes go as soft and docile as a lambs? He could only guess. She needed help getting to the front of the stage now.

"She's fiery, this one. She'd do well in a place like the Vault." The man on stage said it pointedly and looked around the room for any takers.

A thick, shapely woman with blonde hair stood. "I'm here on Madam Genève's behalf. I will offer you thirty thousand."

"She's a maiden, may I remind you," the man said.

"She's also willful."

Definitely that.

"I'll offer you fifty," said someone else.

Jellal pushed his way up to the front of the crowd and said loudly, "Seventy-five."

Erza's eyes found his. She blinked slowly.

The man on stage smiled. "We have a newcomer. Seventy-five. Do I hear eighty? Going once, going twice—"

"Ninety-five," the blonde said again.

The man raised a brow. "That's a far cry from thirty."

"Pray you're being truthful about her being a maiden," she responded.

"We have it from a reliable source. Ninety-five, ninety-five—"

Jellal stopped worrying about how much money he could potentially have and said loudly, "One forty."

A hush befell the crowd. "One hundred and forty thousand for the beautiful Erza."

The beautiful Erza that was swaying on her feet, hanging off the men that held her upright. The beautiful Erza whose mouth looked so plump and so… _slack_ it was a wonder she stood at all. Her legs kept trying to give out, and she trembled. Erza. Erza trembled. Like she did in the Tower of Heaven. Leaning into him, clutching him while she prepared to take what she thought was her last breath. _Erza_. Jellal wanted her badly in that moment, not just to save but to keep. She should always be his. Erza. The girl he always wanted but could never, ever have. _Stop. stop. stop._ It was a bad time for the Tower to come back and haunt him.

"Did I hear correctly?" the auctioneer asked. "One hundred and forty thousand?"

"Yes." Jellal squeezed the word out as loudly as he could. At his side, Sienna's fingers dug hard into his arm.

"Jellal—"

He couldn't listen.

"Any other takers? Tica? Will Madam Genève make another bid?"

The blonde shook her head. "Not for a defiant and unconfirmed maiden, no matter how _magnifique_ her hair is."

The word made Jellal's neck hair stand on end. He wanted to grab the woman and demand she tell him where to find Madam Genève, but this was way, way more important.

"Very well. No one else? Going once, going twice…"

Jellal held his breath.

"Sold, to this gentleman here. Congratulations. Come around the back, Monsieur, and collect your winnings." He waved Jellal behind the stage.

Jellal's feet were leaden. His heart kept stuttering. His _lungs_. Holy fuck, there wasn't enough air in this shitty, hot place. Sienna's hand slipped into his.

"You draw a lot of attention."

For a man that had spent the last ten years trying to slip by in the cover of dark, he couldn't deny that this was one of the stupider things he'd done. He couldn't even regret it, though. People stepped out of his way and looked at him appraisingly. His stolen money felt heavy in his hand and in his pocket. Sweat pricked his brow. He hoped beyond hope that it didn't start to rub away Sienna's makeup. He wanted to rub his forehead but didn't dare.

Two burly men pulled back the curtain behind the stage and ushered Jellal and Sienna into a small room. The first people Jellal saw were the two boys sitting shoulder to shoulder. They were old enough to understand what was happening to them and young enough to handle it like children. One sobbed into his hands while the other patted his back.

"You'll probably be bought together," Jellal told them with as much compassion as he could muster. "There's that, at least." It was more than he had when he was younger than they.

They lifted their eyes and looked at him hollowly. Jellal couldn't see them anymore, though, Erza had been pulled through the small door on the opposite side of the room. One man all but carried her, his hand across her ribs and far too high for Jellal's liking.

Blindly he went to her, not thinking of anything else until another man, this one old and gray wearing a light tan suit, stepped out and blocked his way.

"That's a lot of money you put up for this girl. Come and we'll make your ownership official."

Jellal choked back a curse. Erza's eyes tracked him. Sienna touched his elbow. "Give me the money, Jellal, and I'll take care of it for you while you check out your purchase. Make sure everything is as it should be."

Her words held a double meaning that he was too numb to intuit. _She'll handle it._ Thankful that one of them was still thinking, Jellal handed over first the bag of stolen coin, then went searching through his pocket for Julian York's money. Sienna took it both them wrapped her arm around the old man's waist and let him lead her to a small table just feet away.

With the sound of the young boy's tears filling the room, Jellal went to Erza.

"Move," he told the man holding her. Before he could let her go, Jellal carefully wrapped one of her arms around his neck and clamped his hand tight on her hip. The other man finally loosened his hold but let his hands linger too long down around her behind. There was a look in his eye that Jellal recognized.

"If you touch her I'll break every one of your fingers." And maybe his neck, too.

"I told you never to touch those girls," tan suit called from across the room.

The guy held up his hands in surrender and stepped back.

Jellal turned and found a small bench seat along the far wall. Slowly he carted Erza over there and sat her down. She went like a loose bag of grain. She fought to keep her head upright. She fought to focus.

Hunkering down so he was kneeling beside her legs he asked quietly, "Are you alright, Erza?"

"Jellal?"

"Yes." He kept his voice below the soft sobs so no one could hear.

"Mm…" Her eyes dropped closed then opened again. "Where is your—" She lifted her hand slowly, searching for his face. He leaned out of her range.

"Shush."

She looked at him, confused and repeated, "Jellal."

Sienna appeared at Jellal's side and grabbed Erza's chin, lifting her face up to the sky. She twisted her this way and that, examining everything that Jellal was supposed to but was way too out of his mind to do. Her hands dropped over Erza's body, feeling her neck, her shoulders, looking at her arm where two perfect puncture wounds still gleamed, twin white scars. She kept moving down, cupping her breasts and squeezing. Erza drew in a sharp breath at the last but didn't pull away. Sienna moved right along, over her stomach, her hips, her legs, right down to her feet, taking off her heels one at a time to examine the skin.

Finally, she turned back to the tan suited man and said, "It is as I thought. She's damaged."

 _Damaged_? There was nothing about Erza Scarlet that was damaged in Jellal's opinion.

The man crossed his arms. "How do you mean?"

"You know perfectly well what I mean. She's covered in scars; her right eye is fake—"

"The deal is the deal—"

"You promised a maiden woman."

"And so she is."

"Who can really say? Scars like those lead me to believe she's seen her fair share of things."

"You don't want her anymore?"

Sienna spoke up before Jellal could. "Mr. York will still want her, but at a reduced price."

"There are people out there that would pay—"

"Not one twenty."

"That's twenty thousand cheaper than what we agreed—"

"Yes. Twenty thousand. Do you think Madam Genève will give you a better price after she does her own assessment?"

The man grumbled. "Very well."

Jellal watched as Sienna handed over the entire contents of the bag of money. Then she came back to him. "Come on, Jellal. Let's deliver Julian's new girl."

Jellal somehow found the will to stand. Every inch of his body was taut with barely contained nerves. Adrenaline. So much adrenaline. _Breathe. Breathe. Breathe._ He shot a look towards where the boys had been. Someone had come in and taken them out; he hadn't even noticed. _Make Erza safe first, then you can think about everyone else._

When he bent to grab Erza again she wrapped her arms around his throat and leaned into him. She was softer than he remembered. She smelled like lime and basil shampoo. It wasn't a scent that was hers. Someone had washed her, or made her wash. He squeezed her tight and took the first step towards freedom. Then the next.

No one stopped them.

Sienna grabbed the door and held it. Out in the main room again, the boys were on stage. The one had stopped crying now. he held on to the other's hand like they were children. _Because they are_.

 _Gods._ Jellal wondered who they'd end up with. Monsieur Leroy whom had had so many boys just like them? Jellal was afraid to wonder what happened to the others he'd bought. Whores and slaves met one of two ends. Either they were free or they were dead.

Yes. Innisfil bred monsters.

People dragged their eyes away from the fierce bidding war that was going on to look at Jellal, Erza and Sienna as they passed. Jellal weathered their gazes, Erza didn't seem to notice as she stumbled along, and Sienna… who knew what Sienna thought? She was wearing her best, unreadable smile.

"She's perfect," he muttered to her, just to settle the score. "There's nothing wrong with her."

"There is when we only had one twenty," Sienna muttered back. "Now shut up and keep walking."

At the exit, Jellal went through first. Andre was still there but he was alone now.

"Traded a redhead for a redhead, huh?" Andre asked. His words trailed off when Sienna stepped out behind Jellal. Confusion befell him. "What's all this then?"

"Julian changed his mind," Sienna said effortlessly.

Andre wasn't so willing to believe her. "You lied to me."

"Does it matter, Andre? We went in, we played by the rules. We bought someone," Sienna said.

"It matters because Miss Dee wants to know who's coming and going," Andre said, "And I don't know who this is."

"I told you," Sienna said, "It's a friend of Julian's."

"Mr. York will be spouting the same tune when I ask, eh?" Andre challenged.

Jellal untangled himself from Erza. The redhead weaved then fell gracelessly to her rump. He didn't apologize, nor did he look at her. He couldn't as he said, "No."

"I didn't think so. Men who lie are men that have something to hide. Who are you?"

Jellal didn't have an answer. It felt good to hit Andre. To feel his head crack back and smash against the wall. It felt even better to grab him around the throat and stifle his yell. From there he hit the man so hard in the guts he felt his throat contract as he tried to spit up what he could. Jellal released him and watched him fall to the ground. He was reaching for his magic but chose his knife instead. That spell was for Simon's life alone.

"P-please—" Andre choked out when he saw the knife.

"Please, may you live?" Jellal asked. He felt cold all over.

Andre nodded.

"You let thousands of people, men, women, children, pass through this door to get _sold._ "

"You don't get it. That's the job," he said. "If I don't… I'm in too deep now. Please…" His hand was inching towards his belt. Merciless, Jellal stepped hard on his fingers, feeling them break. Andre gasped in a pained breath.

Jellal kicked his hand away then stooped and grabbed him by the hair, tearing his head back so he could look into the man's eyes. "Let me tell you something, Andre. You'll find no sympathy here. I was a monster before I was a man."

* * *

Though her face was tear-streaked, it was Sienna that kept her head cool long enough to decide that they needed to move Andre before they could be caught. Grabbing him up from under the arms she started lugging him into a shadowy tunnel Jellal didn't notice before.

Standing there numbly, watching her work, Jellal listened to Erza's ragged breathing. Did she understand what just happened? He didn't dare look at her to confirm, not yet. He had seconds of reprieve before he was faced with that task and he was determined to take them. Stooping, he grabbed Andre's feet and helped Sienna lug him into a place where he wouldn't be immediately found.

Only when he was crumpled in a dank corner, legs bent at an odd angle, body curled up tight and Jellal could avoid it no longer did he return and face Erza. She sat on the ground rocking slowly. Her dress was pulled up in the most unflattering way. She looked like a sprawled lamb with no control over her arms or legs. Jellal didn't feel much better. With jerky movements he stooped and wrapped her arm around his throat again. Erza looked at him with scared eyes.

"Jellal—"

He couldn't. She asked him to be better so many years ago and this was the best he could do. Silent, he pulled her up to her feet and took to the stairs. Sienna came on Erza's other side and offered support over there. Things went faster then.

Ahead, a bobbing light told them someone approached. Jellal held his breath when Eris came around the bend toting a torch. He looked at them curiously but said nothing. After they passed, Sienna picked up the pace, taking the steps two at a time.

"Hurry," she hissed. "I want to get back to Casino Gomorrah before—"

"Andre?" Eris' voice rose from the bottom of the stairs. Heart in his throat, Jellal hurried.


	6. Chapter 6

Jellal kept expecting to hear Eris' steps racing up behind them, yet there was no sound. He didn't know whether to be happy about that or not. Eris was the only one that had seen them exit the Hive. How long before he found Andre and put two and two together?

"Do you think we should go back for him?" Jellal whispered around Erza's limp body.

"No, Jellal, I don't," Sienna hissed. She was shaking. "You didn't have to do that."

"Yes, I did."

"Andre—"

"Was a bad man," Jellal interjected. "He was letting people walk through those doors to buy and sell slaves."

"Yeah, but—"

"He was going to buy _you_ , Sienna. Do you think he would have been a kind master if I was honestly in the business of selling?"

She didn't say another word.

"What's happening?" Erza asked. She sounded dopy and slow.

"We'll talk about it later, okay?" Jellal said, squeezing her hip. "We just have to get out of here, Erza." She fell silent.

Pale light flooded the tunnel from above, the door to the freezer open a crack. Sienna let Jellal take Erza so she could open it the rest of the way. Jellal prepared for people waiting beyond the barrier, but there were none. Blissfully. Like before, as soon as he stepped into the butcher shop the smell of blood and cleaner flooded his senses. That copper scent always seemed to be with him now. Hurrying, he carted Erza over the shiny floor. Her teeth started to chatter. Looking at her through his lashes he saw that her eyes, glossy before, were turning wider than saucers. She'd been high downstairs, but the drug hadn't taken its full effect. Now she was a stumbling mess. Jellal was extra careful with her, aware that she was still handcuffed. Her fingers flexed uselessly, searching, searching. He realized she looked for his hand. He gave it to her, squeezing reassuringly.

Sienna opened the outside door and waved them on through into the moonless night. After being trapped inside the Hive for an hour it felt cold in the early summertime air. Erza really started to shake. Jellal stopped so he could take off his jacket and wrap it around her shoulders.

"What the hell did they give her?"

"I don't know," Sienna replied. "Some sort of Illusion derivative to make her complacent?"

From a few stores down a group of people stepped out into the street. Jellal looked at them nervously and put his body in the way of Erza's. It probably wasn't wise to be seen walking a handcuffed girl through the streets, even if it _was_ Innisfil. There were still pockets of good, uncorrupted people living there, and some police that couldn't be bought. The last thing he wanted was to be arrested again. If he had to spend any more time in another jail cell… "We're going too slow."

"We sure are." And yet Sienna stopped behind a large industrial air conditioner so she could root around in the front of her dress. Extracting her hand, she held out a silver key. "Here. Get rid of the cuffs."

Jellal took the key and forced his fingers to be patient while he carefully unlocked Erza. The cuffs came open with a pop. He took them and was about to throw them away, but Sienna snatched them out of his hand and kept them. She took the keys back, too.

"Never know," she explained when he looked at her.

Jellal grunted and rubbed Erza's sore looking wrists when she didn't do it for herself. She didn't flinch away from him. He wondered if she was going to remember _anything_ in the morning.

"Come on." Sienna started walking again, swooping under Erza's freed arm. Jellal copied her movements. They went all of ten steps before he got frustrated again with their uneven steps and said, "Let her go."

"She'll fall," Sienna pointed out.

Jellal's response was to push her out of the way. Erza teetered just as Sienna said, but Jellal caught her and hoisted her up before she could crash to the ground. She was deadweight. Heavy. Her head found his shoulder, her arms limp at her side. He would have been afraid for her, but he felt her breath breaking against his neck, a warm, gentle tickle. Under everything the auctioneers put on her body to make her glitter and smell like perfume, she still smelled good, like only Erza could. Guiltily he squeezed her tighter to his body, enjoying her even like this.

* * *

When they finally arrived, Casino Gomorrah was still going strong, with men and women gathered out front in the smoking section, drinking and blowing out long lines of smoke. Only about half of the gray substance smelled like cigarettes. The front door opened and the sounds of the slots penetrated the night. Inside the casino, winners and losers alike laughed and yelled, so the noise amalgamated and became as one. Jellal was happy when Sienna walked _past_ the front doors, along the side of the long building, and into the alley in the back. This way he didn't have to think about the craps tables or the roulette. Losing and winning, winning, winning.

Tonight there were no whores taking a break, no men trying to coax their services out of them at a discount price. Through the backdoor they went, over the marble floor and into the service elevator. The doors slid closed and Sienna stabbed floor nine's button. They started moving, which was good because Erza was beginning to get really heavy. Her fingers had found his shirt, though, and were playing with the buttons, first around his throat, then above his heart. Jellal didn't think she even knew what she was doing, she was so stoned, but maybe the movement meant she was on the comedown.

"Where are we going?"

"My hotel room, Erza," he explained.

"Is it nicer than the other one?"

He had no idea what she was talking about. "It's nice."

The elevator dinged and the doors came open again. Sienna stepped out first, then Jellal. A door opened down the hall and a man came out of his room. He smiled first, until he saw Erza so limp in Jellal's arms. His expression turned suspicious, his eyes roving from Erza to Jellal and back again. Maybe he would have said something if Sienna wasn't there—it _did_ look bad, with Erza's dress riding high and her body totally boneless. Jellal did what he could to keep her covered, sure she wouldn't appreciate everyone seeing how little she was wearing, and was grateful when the passing man kept his mouth shut.

At room twenty-two Sienna stopped and went digging through Jellal's pocket for the key card. Like before, the card reader's light turned green, granting them access. Jellal went in, Sienna followed, locking the door behind herself.

Going directly to the bed, he dropped Erza down. The mattress sagged silently under her weight. He tried to stand again but she still had his shirt. It was then he realized that her fingers weren't plucking as idly as he'd originally thought. The material was halfway open, only the buttons down past his bellybutton remained in tact. Not for long, though, she was grabbing at those, too.

Looking up he saw that her eyes were open wide, her lips moist and slightly parted. She looked still high as fuck, but alert. He grabbed her wrists and tried to pull her away. "Let go of me, Erza."

She didn't. "I don't—I don't care if you're the real Jellal or not. I should. But I don't."

Her voice was huskier than he'd ever heard it before. It gave him chills. "I'm real, Erza." He meant to ask, _why wouldn't I be_ , but she bowed her spine, pushing her body against his and thoroughly scattered his thoughts. How did they get so close? Somehow he'd sat down at her side. But of course, Erza was a star whose gravity he couldn't escape. He pulled harder at her wrists, not wanting to be free but _needing_ to be. She released him. Thankful, he tried to stand, but she was grabbing at him again, going for his face. He felt paralyzed under her fingers as she wiped his cheek, searching for his tattoo. She crooned when she found it.

"You shouldn't hide." She pulled him close so her mouth was only centimeters from his. Close enough he could smell her breath, sweet, feel the heat come off her skin. _Fuck_. He grabbed her again and squeezed her wrists, not wanting to hurt her but wanting to put an end to this before he could get any stupid ideas.

"Stop it, Erza."

"You should kiss the girl, Jellal. That's what she wants," Sienna said from over his shoulder; he'd forgotten she was there.

 _Not helping._ "She's stoned."

"You've been, too."

Definitely not helping. "There is blood on my hands." Specks.

"I'm guessing it's not the first time." She didn't sound as perturbed as she was earlier. Sienna adapted quickly. "I'll watch her while you get cleaned up." She leaned over Jellal's shoulder, body pressing into his so she could swipe Erza's hair away from her forehead. "She looks like she could be fun. You, me, her—"

"A few hundred dollars?" Jellal said as vehemently as he could so he didn't think _that_ was a good idea, either.

"Oh… I don't know." Sienna ran her fingers down over Erza's cheek to her chest and gathered a handful. Erza's breath caught like she was overly sensitive. Her bottom lip found home between her teeth. She nibbled until it was plump, all but purring as Sienna plucked and teased out a sigh that burned Jellal straight to his core. "Maybe not."

 _Fuck._

Jellal released Erza and brushed Sienna's hand aside. "Don't."

"She likes it."

"No, she doesn't," he said, though he knew _that_ was a lie. The skin around Erza's neck was pink and her chest was rising and falling rapidly. Now that she was suddenly free, she let her hand drop to the waistband of his pants, then lower. She squeezed his erection, then rubbed. Jellal was ashamed to admit how slow he was to grab her wrist and put a halt to her movements. His whole body ached while he pinned her wandering hands up over her head.

 _Fuck._

"Kiss her, Jellal, or I will," Sienna said.

Erza bowed again, her breath coming quicker like she expected him to do so much more then just pin her down.

"This is just torture," Sienna said. "Kiss her—"

"Shut the fuck up, Sienna." He didn't need encouragement.

Erza found his eyes. "Are you going to kiss me?"

Jellal's throat felt small. He wanted to ask if she _knew_ what he did to Andre not even an hour ago. He didn't dare, in case she didn't. Cowardly. "You should go to bed, Erza. You need sleep. You're tired."

"I am?"

"Yes."

Sienna snorted and disappeared. Distantly, Jellal heard water running in the bathroom.

Erza asked, "Are you coming, too?"

He bit his cheek until it hurt. "I—"

Erza's body was slow in responding, but she moved over a little, making room for him. "You can lie here."

Sienna reappeared in that moment, saving Jellal from a bad decision.

Erza slowly looked over at the girl. "Who are you?" Obviously she had _no_ grasp on her surroundings. Never mind that Sienna had been pawing her moments ago.

"A friend of Jellal's. Here you go." Sienna pushed a glass of water at her. "You'll thank me in the morning."

Erza's face eased, her hand came up, looking for the glass. Then she hesitated. "Is it going to—to make me feel funny, too?"

"It's just water, I promise," Sienna said. "Right, Jellal?"

"Yeah," he agreed, remembering how dry his mouth was when he woke that morning. If it was some kind of Illusion they gave her, she'd be thankful for the water. "Come here." He grabbed Erza around the back and pulled her up so she was sitting. Her body pressed against his was soft and distracting. And her mouth. Her lips found the skin at his throat and eased into a kiss. He wanted to keep her there. He wanted to push her away.

Sienna made the decision for him, climbing up on the bed on Erza's other side and taking the girl's hand in hers. "Erza, darling, if you keep doing that you're going to give poor Jellal a heart attack. Here, take the water, drink it all."

Erza gripped the water, an automatic reflex, and took her mouth away to ask, "Is he sick?"

"In a way."

"He needs help?"

Sienna laughed. "Maybe. I think you're the right girl for the job."

"Stop fucking around, Sienna," Jellal said. His neck was hot with embarrassment. Lucky for him he didn't think Erza would remember tomorrow.

Erza's eyes flicked over to his. "How?"

Sienna's eyes danced with mischief until Jellal skewered her with a withering glare. She sighed. "Don't worry about it, sweetie."

"But you said he was sick—"

"He's fine, I was only teasing."

"Really?"

"Really, really. Drink up." Sienna grabbed the bottom of the glass and tipped it towards Erza's mouth.

Jellal watched her still darkly painted lips part and meet the glass' rim. He'd never been so jealous of an inanimate object before. She gulped it all down, only some spilling over the corner of her mouth. When she finished, he wiped the moisture away, fingers lingering too long around her lip. She smiled and kissed his thumb. He didn't immediately move so she let her tongue flick out, redder than a cough drop, and licked up the appendage, from base to tip. Jellal's body ached all the more. He took his hand away before he could forget to.

"Lie back down."

She went more willingly now. Her hand fell into his. "I really found you? You're for sure not fake?"

"I promise I'm real, Erza."

She sighed serenely. Her eyes were drooping; she was, to his relief, _actually_ passing out.

Gently, he tickled her knuckles and watched until her lashes kissed her cheek and her breathing evened. Long minutes passed in which he just watched her sleep. Only when she started snoring lightly did he untangle their hands and stand. Erza was laying in the middle of the mattress on top of the sheets so he grabbed the blankets from the corner of the bed and rolled them over her body so she was cocooned. Having her covered up helped clear his head some; he wasn't looking at all that pale skin, her red mouth, and wondering what it would be like if he woke her up again and just let her do whatever she wanted.

The sound of the water coming on again told him that Sienna had risen from the bed. He hadn't even noticed. He went to the washroom and found her leaning against the bathroom's doorframe, her body stretched out casually. Her blue dress looked even sheerer than before. In her hand was the container housing Illusion. Seeing it made Jellal's chest ache. He bowed under her planted arm and went to the sink, washing his hands in water so hot his skin hurt.

"You don't have to pine after her tonight," Sienna said, watching him.

"Why would I pine? She's in my bed."

"And you won't have her."

Jellal scowled and splashed water over his face, washing off the rest of Sienna's makeup. "I don't need to."

Sienna stood straight and came to him. Leaning back against the counter, she shamelessly grabbed his erection. His tongue could lie but his body couldn't. "It's going to be an awfully uncomfortable night." She released him so she could open her container and pull out a green rectangle. "Or it could be a pleasurable one."

* * *

Hair damp, body cold, Jellal fell into bed beside the real Erza Scarlet and tugged on the small slice of the blankets he'd covered her with. She curled into him, half forced when he pulled hard enough. He didn't mind. Still fuzzy, he wrapped his arm around her middle and slung his leg up around her hips, gathering her in. She smelled good. Way better than a pretender.

Lips found his in a chaste kiss. He would have stiffened, he would have pulled away, if he wasn't so fucking stoned. Instead he gave a muffled, pleased sigh and squeezed her tighter. She relaxed and so did he.

The light beside the bed snapped out, then the door closed quietly behind Sienna.

Sleep came.

* * *

 **A/N** : I lied again. I think Julian is going to have a bigger role in this than what I said. (I think the moral of this is that I had absolutely no plan, which isn't a surprise, I never do, and maybe I should think about a storyline before I get story-happy and write a musing first chapter.)

Thanks for reading this far, everyone. It seems most people got to chapter three, were weirded out and said _fuck that._ But you! You've lasted. Could be too you're reading this and thinking, _fuck that._ Ah. If that's the case, thanks for giving it a try.


	7. Chapter 7

The world revealed itself to Erza a little bit at a time, like a flower opening to the first rays of sun. She was warm. She was comfortable. Her nose was filled with the scent of body wash. Under her hands was skin. Warm, smooth, covering hard muscle. A chest expanded and contracted, breath tickled her forehead. There were lips resting against her nose. Her eyelids were heavy, but she still managed to open them. She could see dark stubble. A splash of blue. The darkest plum colour she'd ever seen, used to stencil a familiar tattoo.

All of these things added up to one inevitable conclusion:

 _Jellal._

Well, maybe _two_ conclusions. _Not_ Jellal; his pretender.

Her head was foggy. _That man is dead._

 _Killed._

That memory jarred others. _I'm in Innisfil._ Innisfil, the city _full_ of pretenders. Innisfil, the city of sex trade and slaves. The memory of the auction came whipping back to slap her so hard, Erza felt paralyzed. _Someone bought me._ Someone that looked like Jellal. Jellal without his tattoo. Someone cold and merciless.

' _Please.'_

 _'Please, may you live?'_

 _I_

There was blood.

 _Was a monster_

And gurgling.

 _Before I was_

But no screams.

 _A man._

 _Gods. Gods. Gods._ Adrenaline spiked in her veins. Moving her wrists just slightly, she discovered she was no longer handcuffed. Good. That meant she could call her magic, which meant she was armed, which meant she was putting an abrupt _end_ to this.

When she moved, the arms around her body tightened, hands weaved through her hair and pulled her tighter to the man's chest. He sighed softly, _contentedly,_ and moved his cheek so it was pressing into hers. On her cheek bone his lips closed in what Erza could only call a kiss, though she didn't think he was awake to realize it _._ It would have been sweet, if she wasn't so terrified.

 _Move._ Gathering her wits, Erza wrenched back, threw aside the blankets, and summoned her magic all in one fluid motion. She was in her armor brandishing a short sword before her captor even _thought_ about opening his eyes and lifting his head. The only thing that slowed her down was everything. The weakness she felt in her legs, the dizzinessin her head.

 _Holy._

 _Hell._

The room spun. Erza wondered if she was going to fall. Then she wondered if she was going to be sick. Her body broke out in sweat. _No. No. No._ She swallowed three times. Then once more for good measure.

"Erza? Erza, look at me."

Erza, disoriented, couldn't even find the bed, let alone the man that spoke to her. The room spun badly, she stumbled to correct herself. It tilted up so she took a step back; it tilted sideways so she lurched the opposite way. There was no hope, though, as soon as she moved it was all over. Before she could blink, she found herself flat on her rump in the middle of the floor, legs spread out like a newborn deer's.

"Damnit." Bedsheets rustled, then came the sound of bare feet padding across the wooden floor. They came into view a second later. Then knees, a lap covered by a pair of plain, black shorts, a bare chest, wide shoulders, a strong, sharp jaw, straight nose. His tattoo, stretched over his hazel eye.

Hands gripped Erza's face and anchored her in this world when her vision started greying again.

"Can you hear me?"

Flashes of her first night in Innisfil came back to her.

 _'You're not the real Jellal.'_

 _'But I'm real enough.'_ His hands had been skillful, his mouth insistent. The pleasure haunted her. And the shame that came afterwards as she stumbled through the auction house, handcuffed and _helpless_.

 _Like I was in the Tower of Heaven._

She'd promised herself so many years before that she'd never feel that way again.

"Erza, look at me," Jellal told her. Her honey coloured eyes were wider than saucers, not really focusing, her mouth, still coloured with whatever stain they'd put on it last night, was open as she fought to draw breath. Jellal's heart throbbed with panic, but he _wouldn't_ let it come through, not yet. He couldn't tell if she was having a bad comedown from whatever anesthetic they'd given her, or if she was just confused, or if it was a combination.

He knew the moment she found him because her vision sharpened and her mouth closed. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her fingers flex around the pommel of her sword and prayed that she wouldn't think it was a good idea to stick him with it.

"Let go of me," she commanded in a voice that was surer than he'd expected.

"Erza, please—"

She wasn't listening, only getting more and more agitated. "Stop using his face!"

"Erza—it's me—" He knew his mistake even as he was doing it: touching her. But how could he stop once he'd started? Even with the very real threat of her sword he couldn't make his body _obey_.

And it was just as he thought. Getting her second wind, Erza used her left arm to push his hands to one side then swung her short sword up so it pressed tight against his neck. Jellal went the only way he could to avoid getting slit anew: he fell backwards, bare back kissing the floor. He _felt_ the steel slide over his skin and knew if he hadn't moved he'd be smiling from a new place.

Erza, relentless, came with him, scrambling, armour squealing, sword clanging, knees _digging_ into everywhere they could, his thigh, his balls, his fucking liver. Her metal-clad fingers found his hair, her sword his neck, her hot breath his cheek.

"I said _stop using his face_. Don't you want to die in your own skin?"

"Erza—" Talking brought his throat dangerously close to the steel, but if he didn't he'd be dead. "It's really me." _Fuck,_ everything hurt. He wanted to clutch his side, his crotch; he didn't dare move.

"I said _not to lie!_ "

Desperate to prove himself, Jellal searched his memory for something only she'd know. "When we were kids, a butterfly came into the Tower of Heaven. Simon named it Coral. It was already dying when you accidently sat on it. You and me, we threw it out of the cell bars and told him it just flew away."

Erza paused. "What?"

"And—and when you were thirteen, you were tasked with bringing up cinderblocks from the boats. Halfway up the flight of stairs you told the slavers you felt something—"

"Stop, stop." Erza, as red as a cherry, loosened her grip on her sword. "Gods _._ You still _remember_ that?"

"I was terrified—I thought you were going to die," he said simply, not nearly as ashamed as Erza. Who knew there could be _that_ much blood?

"Damnit, Jellal." The sword disappeared. "I'm about to take your life and _that's_ the story you choose?"

"It was personal and it stuck out in my memory," he told her truthfully.

Erza snorted. "Why couldn't you remember something _nice,_ like, like—"

"Like all the good times we had in the Tower?" he asked facetiously.

 _Right._ The redhead let all of her breath and tension out in one long gust of air. "Shit. I almost killed you." Maybe the blade would have found home and she wouldn't have even mourned the man she couldn't stop thinking about; she would have killed him and left him to the worms as a fraud, not the real Jellal. She dismissed the thought a second later, thinking she would have known, somehow, someway, if his heart stopped beating. It would have haunted her forever. Her hands shook.

"It was close," Jellal agreed and held in a manic laugh.

Erza suddenly realized she was too close to him; close enough to see his freckled nose, his unshaved face. Close enough to feel the heat coming off his body. She let loose her grip on his hair and sat back. Embarrassed but still suspicious she asked, "It's really you?"

"I should be asking _you_ that. What the hell are you doing here?" Erza—the _real_ Erza in Innisfil. Could he be so unlucky (fortunate)?

"I…" Erza was embarrassed to admit that she came looking specifically for him. "I've just been travelling since Fairy Tail disbanded."

"Oh." It seemed like fate was always bringing them together. Jellal felt Erza relax further; her armour fell away. Looking at her, he wanted to sputter and huff though he'd seen her like this last night; he didn't. He stayed exactly where he was, afraid to move, half enjoying a mostly naked Erza, the prize all the sweeter because to get to it had nearly cost him his life, half hating himself for even looking. His body was hard without his permission. He willed it away, thinking of anything he could: gambling, slave auctions, slicing a man's throat. Sticky. Blood. Red. Like scarlet. Scarlet Lake and all of its secrets.

Scarlet like Erza. Erza. Erza. Erza. The images blurred together, mixing horror and pleasure until, just like in the olden days, Jellal couldn't tell which was which or if they were both always the same. Erza was a girl that was blood and honey. Erza was the kind of girl that could take, take everything, and break—

"Jellal?" Erza's voice cut through his lunatic thoughts.

Jellal realized he'd grabbed her hips and squeezed. He didn't let go; it felt like his fingers were stapled to her body. It would take such little effort to—

Erza shifted, aware of far too much, him pressing into her behind, his elevated breathing, his _hands_ , just barely slipping under the fabric at her thighs. Gods. Her dress, and the nothing beneath it. His fingers crept higher. Face flaming, Erza brushed his hands aside and carefully climbed off his lap. On the ground again, she kept her eyes up around his face and sat as primly as she could. His eyes still hovered everywhere. She didn't even think he was aware of it. To save them both—him from his embarrassment when he realized that _she_ realized, her from the memories of the Jellal fake (he'd almost looked at her in _that_ exact way)—she used her magic to change her clothes into something more modest: a pair of plain black shorts and a black, V cut T-shirt.

Jellal looked positively relieved. Desperate to pretend she'd noticed nothing, Erza cleared her throat and asked, "So, what are you doing here?"

Jellal sat up, lifting one leg and crossing his arm over it in what he hoped was a casual manner. "I just…" He imagined telling Erza that before he belonged to the Tower of Heaven he'd belonged to the Vault, that it was selling again, that Madam Genève, surely not much of a woman to reckon with now that he was an adult with magic that could take lives with a thought, was the creature of his worse nightmares.

 _Magnifique._

"Um—" He had to say _something,_ right? "I was just…" _Just_ what _?_ "Just passing through."

Knowing he lied, Erza wondered how angry Sorano would be if she revealed what the woman said to her.

Jellal bowled ahead before Erza could decide either way. "How did you end up in the Hive?"

"Hive?" she queried.

"The place last night." She _still_ looked at him blankly. "Where the slave auction was," Jellal explained.

Erza dropped his gaze and picked at her thumbnail. "I don't know."

"You don't remember?"

 _Not exactly._

"Tell me, Erza, anything you can," he requested when he thought she'd refuse.

Sighing, Erza revealed, "There was a man. He—he gave me something. A drug." She skipped over the part where she spent hours lying sweaty beneath a fraud. "And—uh, the next thing I remember is waking up handcuffed. There was this woman who was doing my nails, hair and makeup. She dressed me, and then I was dragged through that place."

Jellal's face got blank, a dangerous spark ignited in his eye. "Someone drugged you?"

 _I was a monster_

 _Before_

 _I was a man_.

Erza shook her head to clear it, unsure if that _actually_ happened or if she'd been hallucinating badly. "I—guess."

Jellal wanted to grab her and throttle her. He kept his hands firmly clutched into fists. "Erza, _how_ did you let that happen?"

Erza felt her ears get hot. "They pretended to be someone I know."

The pieces clicked together for Jellal. _He was a whore_. One of Madam's, or one of Julian York's? Given that Erza had ended up in the auction house, he had _no_ idea. It was forbidden for Madam's whores to make any money other than what she'd sanctioned, and given that one of her people were bidding on Erza at the Hive, he was guessing that she wasn't aware of someone's side business. "What did he look like?"

"Who did he pretend to be?" she asked, blushing more.

 _Yes._ He wanted to know more than anything who Erza wanted most, if she was on the drug he thought she was, but there were more important things to discuss. "No, what did he look like _before_ the drugs?" Violence pushed out curiosity.

To Erza, Jellal was cold in that moment, the man he'd been sitting upon his false throne in the Tower of Heaven. The man that had ordered her friends' deaths, the man that was going to sacrifice her to Zeref. The man that had taken Simon. Erza worked to swallow, fear, and something else she didn't want to name making her heart do strange things. "It doesn't matter, he's dead." At least, she was fairly certain he was.

Jellal blinked at her. "Dead?"

"Yes. He wasn't the one that brought me in. There were two of them. His partner wanted to sell me and he didn't." She remembered bits and pieces; lying naked in the bed, staring at the ceiling once she'd finally managed to open her eyes, her heart beating irregularly.

Jellal imagined what Erza would be doing with two men on Illusion. His erection was back, and so was a sprig of jealousy. It wasn't fair that strangers got the real Erza Scarlet. Dismissing it as best he could., he asked, "Do you remember what the other one looked like?"

Erza shook her head. "Just… purple."

"Purple?"

She nodded.

"Purple clothes, purple hair, purple gloves, _what_?"

"I don't _know_ , Jellal," Erza said sharply.

"Great." Jellal scowled. "So we have no leads."

Erza, looking away, thrust her fingers through her hair. "I wish…"

She looked so forlorn. Jellal wrenched back on his rage. "Sorry, Erza. It's not your fault."

"It is. I was stupid," she said dejectedly. "I don't want to think about what would have happened…"

"You would have gotten away."

She met his eyes. "With time." And what would have gone on between then? Not much she wanted to think about. Something else occurred to her. "What were _you_ doing there? At the Hive, I mean?"

Jellal blew out a hot breath. "I was just… Sienna said it was a spot tourists liked to go, so she took me."

Erza's heart turned for no reason the stubborn redhead could name. "Sienna?"

He nodded. "She's… ah…"

"You don't have to explain," Erza waved him off, feeling even more foolish, though she couldn't have said why. Maybe because she woke up this morning, arms and legs tangled with his.

"It's not like that," Jellal said before he could think better of it. "She's—we're not together or anything. Not in that way." Not for real, anyway. Never mind pushing her face against the mirror last night, never mind grabbing her hair so hard he thought her moans were laced with pain, never mind the bruises she was sure to have on her thighs after being forced into the bathroom counter again and again. His chest was hollow. It was easy to imagine that it was _this_ girl he'd done those things to. He wanted it badly. He wondered what she'd do if he grabbed her now and kissed her. Push him away? Let it happen?

Erza looked at him from the corner of his eye. "No?" Looking like that, faraway and lost in thought, she couldn't tell if he was lying or not.

Jellal shook himself. His body was pulsing harder than before. He adjusted his leg and asked, "Were you with them?" The words came out before he could tame them. It wasn't important, yet he wanted to know.

"With?" Erza thought she knew what he was asking, though she hoped otherwise.

"Those men. Were you with them?" _Do you want to know because you care, or because you want to make yourself feel better for fucking Sienna while she wears Erza's face?_ He tried to feel ashamed for that. It just wouldn't come. Maybe if Erza knew, he'd feel guilty. He was over the shame he'd felt with Sienna, though. The gain was worth enduring it. He peered over that slippery slope he teetered on. The way down didn't look so far from where he stood, the bottom not so jagged.

Erza opened and closed her mouth like a fish, her face so red that Jellal knew the answer was yes. He prepared a series of questions, ones that started with, _did you have them_ _both? Who did you imagine, was it pleasurable,_ and ended with, _do you want me to gut the remaining one when I find him?_ He never got the chance to ask any of them, though, because the door sounded.

"Jellal?" It was Sienna. "Jellal, open up. Hurry." She sounded panicked. She rapped again.

Jellal pulled himself into a standing position and stumbled to the door. His head was still thoroughly clouded from last night, so much so he thought he might still be high. Tearing back the door confirmed it. While he was aware it was Sienna there, her features kept melding with Erza's, her blue eyes turning brown, her pointed nose rounding slightly, her lips becoming just a touch fuller. Just when he couldn't tell the difference, she shifted back again.

 _Breathe._ "What is it?"

Sienna, pushing past him, came in and closed the door behind herself, leaning against it. Today she was in a small black and white striped cha cha dress that covered only one shoulder, she had no makeup on but her hair was curled. Her feet were bare. Jellal surmised she was in the middle of getting ready for _something_ but had stopped abruptly. Her eyes were wide.

"What's wrong?"

"Julian is coming," she said in a rush.

"Julian?"

" _Yes_. He knows about last night-"

"What about it?" He felt slow.

"About telling Andre I was for sale!" She clutched shaking hands at her belly. "About _Andre_. They found him. Miss Dee is _furious_. She thinks you were sent by Julian."

"And that's not good?"

Jellal didn't think it was possible for Sienna's eyes to get wider; he'd been wrong. Shaking her head, she said, "He's pissed—really pissed."

 _Fuck._

"What's happening?" Erza asked finally. Still out of it, she was getting all of the panic, all of the violent room spins and none of the drunk high she'd felt the night before. It was _all_ down hill from here on out.

The sound of a heavy fist landing on the door over Sienna's shoulder made them all jump. Sienna went a few shades whiter, Erza looked tense and like she was gathering the will to fight, and Jellal? He didn't know what he felt.

Nothing at all, maybe. Nerve-wracking panic, maybe.

Julian didn't knock again, he used a key to open the door, pushing it into Sienna when she was slow to move. Scampering, she rushed to turn and face him.

"Mr. York."

Julian's face was an angry mask. Behind him were three large men, men that had to both stoop and turn slightly to get through the door. Men that carted a bruised and bloody Eris in, moving him at gunpoint.

"Afternoon, Mr. Fernandez." Julian greeted with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Mr. York," Jellal responded with the same level of coolness. The last man in closed and locked the door. Jellal could _feel_ Sienna and Erza tense. He was right there with them.

Julian seemed at ease. Rolling his shoulders back he asked, "Have a nice evening last night?"

"Oh," Jellal mused. Eris was dripping blood on the dark floor. "It was alright. Better than others."

"So I've heard." Julian's hands found the pockets of his expensive designer pants. "I apologize for barging in—"

"No you don't," Jellal said.

Julian's smile turned real. He held in a laugh even as his fingers bunched. Jellal tensed, waiting for an attack that never came. "Let's have a chat about integrity, lies and consequences, shall we?"

"Jellal," Erza tried to get his attention. "What's happening?"

Ignoring her, Jellal put on a poker face, for all the good he thought it'd do him, and addressed Julian. "Sounds like a nice time."

"Maybe, if you can give me the answers I want." While he spoke, one of his thugs took out his pistol and threaded his silencer in place. Jellal's palms itched with nerves. A glance to Erza showed she wasn't quite prepared for that, either.

Sienna interjected. "Mr. York, it was actually my idea to tell them—"

"Shut up, Sienna. You're good, the men like you, but you're mostly around because Natalie is sweet on you. Remember that." He didn't even look at her as he threatened her.

Erza drew herself up off the floor and was glad for the advantage it offered her, even if Julian and his posse towered over her. "Who the hell are you?"

Julian finally deigned to acknowledge her. "I should be asking you the same thing. Why is a slave buying a slave?"

"Slave?" Erza asked blankly.

Jellal felt his face heat. That was a part of his past that he didn't really _want_ Erza privy to. When he choked it was Sienna that said, "It's not like that. Jellal doesn't belong to her, not anymore."

"You talk too much, Sienna," Julian said sharply. "I was speaking to Mr. Fernandez."

Sienna deflated. "Yes, Sir."

"What is he talking about, slaves?" Erza asked, trying to catch Jellal's eye.

Jellal didn't look at her. _There is no freedom in this world_. He'd always belonged to someone. First Madam, then the Tower's slavers, then Ultear, and in a way, Zeref. Era and their jail came next, and lastly, Crime Sorciere.

"Put some clothes on, Mr. Fernandez," Julian said after a moment. "Let's go somewhere more private. We can talk without all of the interruptions."

"And if I refuse?" Jellal asked.

"I hear Scarlet Lake is a popular attraction."

The threat wasn't lost on Jellal.

"Come," Julian finished. "I'll give you a chance to explain yourself and we can avoid some unpleasantness."

"And Erza?" The only thing he allowed himself to see was the scarlet of her hair out of the corner of his eye.

He looked over at Sienna. "Why don't you take Miss..."

"Scarlet, Erza Scarlet," Sienna supplied.

Julian nodded. "Take Miss Scarlet downstairs, Sienna, get into some trouble, eh?"

Sienna's shoulders relaxed. "Yes, Sir."

"You can find her something better than that to wear, I trust?"

"Yes."

"I'm not leaving," Erza said, stubborn. "Tell me what's going on this instant. Jellal?"

Jellal still couldn't look at her, yet Julian met her fierce gaze unflinchingly. "Some things a man likes to keep private, Erza. Go."

"No," Erza said vehemently.

Jellal recognized that tenacious ring to her voice. She was about to do something reckless. "Erza..."

She ignored him. "Put those guns away and get out of our way, we're leaving."

Julian looked at her in disbelief, then he laughed.

"You think this is funny?" Erza asked. She started to gather magic; it filled the air. One of Julian's lackeys flicked off his gun's safety.

"Erza," Jellal said warningly.

"As we are now, no one has to get hurt, Miss Scarlet, but I guarantee if you continue, you'll be dead," Julian promised.

Erza glowered at him. "Your biggest mistake is underestimating me."

"Likewise," he replied.

The air got thick with magic different from Erza's. Jellal breathed shallowly, skin crawling. Julian York was a mage, and a powerful one at that. "Just stop, Erza." He said it with finality and hoped that the proud mage wouldn't do her own thing as she normally did. To Julian he said, "We'll talk."

Erza watched the exchange in confusion. The other girl, Sienna, had come to her side and grabbed her wrist. "Come on."

"No—" How could she leave Jellal?

The man that had locked the door turned his gun on Erza, getting in close and forcing it under her chin. "The boss says get out, so _get out._ "

Magic was in Jellal's hand before he could blink, more than enough to kill. Julian beat him to it. Jaw tight, body throbbing with power, he focused on the man holding the gun. Immediately the man's nose started to bleed, and then his eyes. Erza gasped; Sienna tightened her hold on her wrist. As calmly as you please Julian asked, "That's not how we treat a lady, Henry, is it?"

"N—no, b—" Henry couldn't even finish, his mouth had started to bleed.

"Stop it," Erza said sharply.

"Give Miss Scarlet your apology."

"S—s—sorry, Miss," Henry said wetly.

"I said _stop_ ," Erza insisted. She took a step forward and almost fell, her body still not doing what it was supposed to.

Julian eased back his magic before Erza could really get her bearings. "A gun is a dangerous thing. Powerful, not to be pointed lightly." He plucked it out of Henry's hand while the man mopped at his face. "Go get cleaned up, Henry." Henry did as he was told, disappearing back out the door again. Julian turned back to Jellal. "My father always told me that magic was a powerful tool, but it could fool you. Mages rely on tricks, illusions that muddle the brain." He tapped his temple with the end of the long silencer attachment. "Bullets, though… there isn't anything tricky about that, is there?"

Not much. They went through all but the toughest armour, were faster than almost every spell Jellal knew. It only took a second to pull a trigger. Magic took time, skill, _practice._

"Please leave, Miss Scarlet," Julian said. "I'll return Mr. Fernandez to you after our conversation."

Jellal didn't know if he believed him or not, and he knew Erza didn't, either.

"If you hurt him I'll tear this place apart. I won't stop until you've suffered twice as much," Erza said vehemently.

"You're fiery," Julian said. Jellal tensed again but the man only said, "I swear that York's never go back on their word. I promised he'd be returned after our conversation and so he will."

" _Alive."_ That qualifier seemed important.

Julian's smile was slow, appreciative. "Absolutely."

Sienna tugged on Erza's wrist, wanting to get her out before she could say anything else. "Come on, Erza. Please—"

Erza pulled out of her grasp and went for the door on her own. Before she did as Julian asked, she tried to get one last look at Jellal. Head down, he was focused on going for a pair of light grey pants slung over the back of a tall backed chair and wouldn't look at her.

It wasn't until Jellal heard the door close that he lifted his gaze and said matter-of-factly, "Your man is going to suffer for threatening her." That gun resting under Erza's chin would haunt him for a long, long time.

Julian said, "Will you be carrying out this punishment?"

Jellal looked at the blood Henry left behind. None of the other men would look at either he nor Julian. "Yes. And if you get in my way—"

"I pride myself on being an enabler," Julian interrupted. "Find some nicer clothes than that, Mr. Fernandez, Gomorrah has a strict dress code."


	8. Chapter 8

Sienna was a girl of unrealistic proportions, swelling, soft curves, long, graceful limbs, beautiful, gleaming hair almost as red as Erza's own. Erza didn't consider herself the jealous type, but in that moment she felt bedraggled and rag-tag. She threaded her fingers through her messy locks, meeting knot after knot, feeling more and more self-conscious as she watched Sienna twitch down the hall. The woman didn't capture all of her attention, though, she kept looking back towards the room where she'd left Jellal, thinking, _I want to go back_. _What the hell am I doing?_

"He'll kill him if you do anything brash," Sienna said when Erza really slowed. She didn't stop or turn, her bare feet slapping with each step. "Natalie says Julian can be really ruthless sometimes. I haven't seen him that way myself, but I think that was close. He was really mad."

Erza turned back around and started walking again. "Saying those things doesn't make me _not_ want to go back."

Sienna finally looked over her shoulder. "I'm not trying to console you. I'm just being truthful. Come on, before you get me in trouble, too. We'll go to the casino, hang out by the pool or—"

"I want to see Jellal."

"Or we could go watch Anna sing—"

"I _can't_ just—"

"You don't understand much about Innisfil, do you? This town isn't Julian York's yet, but it will be soon enough. Being on his good side is a good place to be while you're here." She stopped in front of a dark door and waved a key card over the reader slot. It clicked and Sienna pushed it open, revealing a room that looked just like the one Erza woke up in, except there were double sliding glass doors that opened to a huge balcony that overlooked Innisfil. Scarlet Lake gleamed brightly in the gathering night. It was beautiful.

Erza disregarded the beauty, stapling a glower on her mouth as she came in after the girl.

"You should shower first," Sienna said, twirling around and dropping herself down on the huge king sized bed. "The makeup and stuff they use at the Hive isn't always the best."

Her body _was_ itchy, but Erza was reluctant. "This is nonsense. Why is that man angry with Jellal?"

"Because Jellal is a very convincing liar," Sienna replied.

"What do you mean?"

Sienna said, "I'd love to tell you, Erza, but I never reveal a man's secrets, Mr. York forbids it."

"He isn't here now."

"I like my job," Sienna said. "I would never jeopardize it. If you want to know Jellal's darkies, you'll have to ask."

Erza gnawed her lip, imagining doing that.

"You don't think he'll tell you?" Sienna asked.

Judging by the look on Jellal's face when they left, he wasn't feeling like talking. He always felt distant, but now when they were the closest they'd been in _months,_ he'd never felt further away.

"I bet there isn't much that man wouldn't tell you, if you asked nicely." Sienna winked.

"Please doesn't get you anything you want," Erza said.

"No." She stood and came close, bare feet padding, dress shimmering. Erza stayed perfectly still, unsure of what she was doing, while the girl came to her and smeared old lipstick across her bottom lip. "But a kiss will."

Erza stepped back, heart beating too quickly, lip singing. "Kisses aren't currency."

"In Innisfil they are. One from you would buy quite a bit, I think." She licked her lips. "I'll even let you practice Jellal's on me."

"What?" Erza stammered.

"I won't charge you for the first one." Her fingers skated up Erza's arms.

Erza was slow, but finally she brushed Sienna's hands aside. "Are you a whore?" There was no delicate way to ask.

Sienna pulled her hair over her shoulder. "That is one of my professions, yes, and I'm very, very good."

Erza blushed but asked, "He hired you?" Her face felt so hot.

"Julian? Of course—"

"Jellal," Erza clarified.

"I was being facetious." Sienna grinned.

"Well, don't be."

Sienna turned back to the bed and dropped herself down, crossing her legs. Her dress rode up high; she didn't try to cover anything. Sweat pricked Erza's brow. She forced herself not to fidget.

"That's not really my place to say, but know that there are lots of men that hire whores. Women, too. You don't have to be ashamed if you're lonely, Erza."

Erza's cheeks got hotter. "I'm not trying to justify—"

"Julian told me to take you around, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind if we stayed up here and I entertained you. There are even different ways you can pay that debt if you have no money after those slavers picked you up."

 _She's serious_? Yes. Absolutely. Erza shook her head too quickly. "I'm not—I'm not _hiring_ you—"

Sienna's grin turned sultry. "Well… if you don't want to pay… after last night maybe I could be bribed by other means."

Erza was afraid to ask, "What about last night?"

"Oh, don't worry, you didn't do anything untoward, not really, but you certainly had Jellal tripping over himself," Sienna teased. " _Are you going to kiss me?"_ Her impression was spot-on.

"N—no," Erza protested, but the memory surfaced, like sediment rising from the bottom of a stagnant pool. _'Are you going to kiss me?'_

How humiliating. Even more so because he _wouldn't_.

"Don't be ashamed," Sienna said, reading her adeptly. "He liked it."

Erza looked away, unable to meet her eyes anymore. "I don't think that's what he was thinking."

Sienna asked, "You know what's in the minds of men?"

"I know what's in _his_ mind," Erza returned.

Sienna laughed and laughed, tossing her head back and grabbing her ribs. It went on for so long Erza was embarrassed for a whole new reason.

"It's not funny."

"Oh, yes it is." Sienna wiped tears from her eyes. "You have no idea. Mm... So how was it exactly that you ended up at the Hive?"

Erza pressed her lips into a fine line, not seeing what that had to do with anything. "Does that matter?"

"You were drugged. It was Illusion they gave you, right? Illusion makes everyone feel good. Plays on the heart. I can see why you fell for it. Tell me, Erza, who did you imagine when you were stoned?" Sienna asked.

"I—I don't know what you're talking about," Erza lied.

"Yes, you do. Why don't you ask Jellal who his go-to girl is?" A wide smile stretched across her face. "Get in the shower, Erza, I'll go find something nice for you to wear." With that, the redhead stood and sauntered across the room. The door closed loudly behind her.

Erza stood stationary for a long, long time, thoughts churning.

* * *

Walking in a suit that was both too fine _and_ not even his, Jellal trailed behind Julian, trapped between him and his men. He wondered as he walked if Julian York _knew_ that the suit Jellal donned was in actuality his. He didn't seem like the kind of man that really paid much attention to that kind of stuff, though—he had people to worry about that for him. It was still uncomfortable. And a little thrilling, if he was honest with himself, though he'd always been a bit manic for danger. Or… maybe not always. There was a time before the Vault and the Tower of Heaven broke him—before _Ultear_ broke him—that he'd been a rational boy. That was long before he knew the monster.

Julian came to a halt in front of a set of huge elevators. They were marked _'Authorized Persons Only_ '. When the doors whooshed open, Jellal saw that the inside was way nicer than the service elevator he'd seen; gold and iron filigree, walnut paneling, metal that was so clean and free of streaks he could see himself quite clearly. He came in and faced the doors again. Julian positioned himself at his side, so close their shoulders were almost touching.

"Normally I would never let a man with that tattoo wander around my casino, Mr. Fernandez," Julian said, staring straight ahead at his reflection. "But tonight I'll make an exception. If our conversation goes nicely, it might be a permanent concession."

The man not holding up Eris stabbed the top floor button. The doors closed silently and the elevator started to move.

"Why would you bother with that?" Jellal asked.

"Because I think you and I can help each other," Julian confided.

"How so?"

He faced straight ahead again. "We'll discuss things shortly."

Sensing a dead end, Jellal asked, "Where are we going?"

"To the rooftop lounge," Julian said. "It's a pretty popular place in the summer, nice. Innisfil doesn't look so shitty by night. I have some girls singing tonight, Mr. Fernandez. If you liked the burlesque show yesterday, you're bound to like this." Julian fixed his shirt cuffs as he waited for the elevator to come to a halt.

"You're bringing this guy?" Jellal nodded to Eris.

"I think I'd like to have him around for a bit, yeah," Julian replied, a smile on his mouth that could almost be mistaken for warm. To Jellal, who'd felt himself wear that exact same expression, knew it was the smile that came before blood.

Looking at Eris he asked Julian, "So you wouldn't let one of Madam's through your hotel but you'll drag through a man that's obviously been beaten near to death?" What kind of fucked up logic was that?

Julian, using the reflection in the elevator, straightened his tie as well, though it was perfect. "My customers on the rooftop are of a different breed, and they are usually… understanding. They want to feel safe. This exercise of force lets them know that no one here is slacking. Their safety and the security of their investments are my topmost priority."

"Security?"

"I have to be diligent of thieves," Julian replied.

"This man wasn't stealing from you," Jellal said.

"No? I disagree. Allowing men and women to walk through Dee Vander's _Hive_ to get sold on the black market is _cutting into my profit_ ," he hissed, real anger sneaking into his voice, the kind that surfaced only briefly, the kind that was intense enough that it gave Jellal chills. They fell into silence. Beside Jellal, Eris was shaking, his teeth chattering with every breath. He'd feel badly if he didn't know this man waved Erza and her sellers through the Hive the night before.

The elevator finally dinged, the doors opened, revealing a different world on the rooftop of Casino Gomorrah. Against the dark desert red of the already sunken sun, the lounge came out of the night, like a painting taking shape. It was done up like a patio, with wrought iron tables and chairs all set up, facing the shining lights of Innisfil's city center. Julian was right, the city didn't look so shitty at night. Scarlet Lake pulsed to the left, the bioluminescent plankton glowing brightly, and to the right was the low glowing street lamps that illuminated the city. From up here you couldn't see the trash and needle-filled alleys, you couldn't see the night walkers, Madam's whores, or her customers, some fine suited men and women, others dressed grungy, all used to the night. Yes, it was definitely surface-pretty.

"Let's get a seat and enjoy the show for a few minutes, shall we?" Julian asked. He was already going for a table, one to the left of the stage, half-hidden in shadow. A woman with dark hair wearing a short skirt and fitted black top came out of the dark to pull out a chair for him. In her free hand was a tall glass of wine.

"Mr. York. Would you like or order dinner this evening?"

Julian looked to Jellal. "Hungry, Mr. Fernandez? It would be on the house, of course."

"That—"

"It's rude to decline."

Jellal wasn't much interested in games but made his shoulders ease. "Would be kind of you."

Julian smiled, showing his teeth. "Sit. Wine all around, Kristy. And Chef's special for everyone, I think." He winked at Jellal.

"Yes, Sir," Kristy said and disappeared back to the shadow she emerged from.

"We have the best chefs in all of Fiore," Julian bragged.

Jellal lowered himself in a chair opposite Julian. One of Julian's men shoved Eris down beside him. The man's lip had started bleeding again. Two tables over was a group of women. They tossed them a passing glance, but that was all.

"Look at us, men from all walks of life gathered here." Julian leaned back and sipped his wine. "Dee Vander's dregs, one of Madam Genève's whores and a York all sitting at a table together. Innisfil truly is a melding pot."

"I'm not Genève's," Jellal said.

"That mark says otherwise." The wine appeared. When Jellal just stared at it Julian said, "Have some, please, Mr. Fernandez. It's some of the finest you'll ever try, I think."

Jellal took a deep swallow. It was sweet and dry and delicious.

Julian gave him a look of approval. "Good, right?"

Jellal gave a slight nod. To the left the lights dimmed on the stage and a man, tall and reedy, came out. He said a few words that rolled mostly over Jellal. People clapped. A busty blonde woman with red lips and dramatic eye makeup came out next. She wore a silver and black dress that caught all of the light and amplified it. She walked to the microphone set up in the center stage and immediately started singing with a deep-for-a-woman, melodic voice. No instruments accompanied her at first, but Jellal saw there was someone standing in the stage's shadow with a saxophone in hand.

"Excellent. See, this is civil, right? No one is getting hurt, we're having a good time," Julian said. He nodded to the stage. "Anna is top notch. You won't find a girl like her at the Vault, _or_ the Hive for that matter. I'm sure there are some hidden gems, but once they've been through the Hive they're usually ruined."

Jellal thought of Erza, how close she'd been to ending up as one of Madam's. Anger coiled in his chest.

"But let's get back on topic, Mr. Fernandez. If you're not one of Madam's, then _why_ do you wear that unsightly tattoo?"

Jellal resisted the urge to touch his face. "There was a time when I could not make that claim."

"You used to belong to the Vault."

"Yes." There was a certain amount of shame that came with admitting that. Like a mountainous amount. Jellal bore its crushing weight with as much dignity as he could, remembering all of the things he'd survived. His tattoo was his badge of _honour_.

"I hear tell there is a tattoo parlor—"

"Ingin belongs to Scarlet Lake now," Jellal interjected.

Julian appraised him. "By your hand, I assume?"

Jellal gave a faint nod.

"I would ask why, but what man looks a gift horse in the mouth? I suppose I should thank you for taking out some of Innisfil's trash. This city is going to look brand new when I'm through. So," Julian waved him on. "Tell me why Sienna lied to me about you and your business. And make it good, Mr. Fernandez. I would hate to have to cut her loose for telling tales without good purpose."

Jellal didn't think Julian just meant firing her. He dug his fingers into his leg and put on his liar's face to protect her. "She didn't lie."

"You mean to tell me you're a whore that escaped the Vault, broke out of the poverty that was sure to come afterwards, and made something of yourself?" He said it with an air of indifference but Jellal got the impression he was a predator waiting to pounce.

"I'm a very good mage," he replied calmly. He was the best liar, especially when the truth bolstered his claims.

"Is that so? And the lacrimas Sienna says you make?"

"She was truthful." Not even a sweat was broken; he didn't fidget, he just got cold.

A spark of interest came to Julian's eye. "And anti-magic lacrimas? Can you make those?"

Fuck. He didn't flinch. "They're more difficult than others, but yes. I could spell one." Maybe, with time.

"Several?" Julian wondered.

"...Why are you asking me this?" Jellal asked.

"Because, Mr. Fernandez, you come into my casino, threaten to sell one of my best girls as a bluff to get into a glorified slave auction, and I get to thinking you'd look better with your insides on the out. But I'm a reasonable man. Sienna came back without a mark on her, you knocked Dee Vander down a few notches by killing one of her men right under her nose, and I think I have an interest in purchasing some lacrima. I'd like to embed them in my skin to prevent magical attacks on my person."

"That sounds extreme," Jellal replied.

"My position is tenuous. There are many men and women that think Innisfil should be theirs; they don't want to submit and money alone isn't enough to convince them."

"Why should they have to submit at all?" But Jellal was painting a pretty clear vision of Julian York. He was a criminal that hid behind the facade of business.

"I want to take Innisfil out of the hands of people like Madam Genève and Dee Vander."

"So you can take all the profit from their illegal activities?" The anger was rising.

"I don't know what you mean. I want Innisfil to prosper. It will under my control."

"Mr. York," Eris interrupted. "Please. I'd like to leave now. I—this isn't a conversation I think I should be hearing."

"You're probably right," Julian replied.

"Aren't you afraid I'll tell Miss Dee what—"

"You know I'm not, Eris, and you even know why," Julian said.

Eris looked defeated. "I told you everything—"

"No, you haven't. But we'll get to that. Shut your mouth for a minute, eh?" Julian looked to Jellal. "What do you say? I'll pay you well for the lacrima."

"I'm here for Genève and that's all."

Julian's eyes flashed. "For what, exactly?"

"To put an end to the Vault," Jellal said.

Julian said, "To do that you'll have to kill her."

"I know."

The man's responding smile was slow. "I don't think that means we can't have business."

Jellal shook his head. "That's exactly what it means. I apologize for Sienna—"

"Our goals line up," Julian spoke over him. "I'll pay you well for the lacrimas and even better for Genève's downfall."

"I don't—" _do it for money._

"Very, very well."

Jellal didn't consider himself a greedy man but found himself pausing. "...Why not just do it yourself? You don't seem to have any qualms about killing."

"I'm in the limelight more than I'd like to be. I have to play by the rules. You, my friend, are a man that has a connection to Innisfil, knows the city and Madam, but you're not invested in it as I am. In short, I don't want Dee or any the others thinking I'm in the business of dispatching my competitors."

"Murdering," Jellal said. "Call it what it is,"

"Don't play moral. Eris here says poor Andre's body was quite the mess."

 _I was a monster_. Jellal swallowed. "Andre deserved what he got."

"And so does Genève."

Jellal couldn't deny that.

"Just accept my offer, Mr. Fernandez. You're going to kill her anyway. Why not get paid for it?"

Why not? Really, he couldn't think of a good reason. "Alright, but I do things my way." There was no way he was going to be controlled by some douche with too much money and too much ego.

"Very well, but there is a catch," Julian said.

Jellal's mouth fell into a frown. "What?"

"I don't condone sex slaves."

"Slaves?" Jellal repeated, not understanding.

Julian picked up his wine and swirled it around. "The redhead you bought, Mr. Fernandez. If she wants to stay on her own volition I encourage it, but I'm building an image here. Girls with bruises or wet cheeks don't fit into it."

 _Oh._ Now Jellal got hot. "Erza—she isn't—I bought her freedom."

Julian took a sip of his drink. "Is that so?"

"Yes. She is her own," Jellal said.

Julian got a musing expression that Jellal didn't like much. "Very well."

"Mr. York," Eris said again.

Julian held up his hand to Eris in a ' _stop'_ fashion and said, "May I call you Jellal?"

"That's fine," Jellal agreed.

"And you may call me Julian, if we're to do business." He nodded to Eris. "This man here knows quite a bit about Madam Genève's happenings."

"No—" Eris protested.

Julian nodded to one of his men. They grabbed a steak knife from the table next to theirs and jammed it straight through Eris' hand. Eris opened his mouth to scream. The man grabbed his throat, preventing it from happening.

"No screaming, Eris, remember?" Julian prodded.

Eris swallowed and nodded. The hand eased.

"Now, I think you're also working for Madam Genève, isn't that right?"

"Just—making a few bucks on the side." Eris was sweating a lot. "That's not a crime."

"When you work in Innisfil it is," Julian said. "Tell me what you know about her operation. How is she making Illusion?"

"I don't know about that stuff," Eris insisted.

Julian nodded to his man. He grabbed the knife and twisted it. Eris groaned. Jellal did his best not to flinch. His best was pretty fucking good; that scared him more than anything Julian was doing.

Julian said, "Then tell me how many men and women she's buying."

"I don't know!" Eris' brow was shiny. The knife was twisted again. Eris panted and moaned. "I don't—"

"You're a fucking _liar_ , Eris."

When the knife was twisted again Jellal decided that he'd had enough, whether because he was sick of the man's groans or he was just impatient. Standing abruptly, he pushed Julian's man aside and yanked the knife out of Eris' hand. When he was unstuck, Jellal grabbed the man by the collar and bullied him out of his seat. The chair went flying. One of the women a few tables away gasped. Jellal would have stiffened, he would have stopped, but he just kept seeing Erza on Madam's lap, Madam's fingers weaving through her hair. _Magnifique._ The edge of the roof came up faster than either of them expected. When Eris' knees hit the lip of the short concrete wall, he teetered and almost went right over. Jellal held on to him with fingers that cramped and ached. The man's shirt tore a little. Wind whizzed by and grabbed his hair, his clothes, stole his voice when he whimpered.

Jellal deafened himself to everything: the man's cries, Anna's voice drifting from the stage, women gossiping quietly. " _How many has she bought?_ Answer and end this charade. _"_ The words came out low, dangerous.

Eris' mouth moved. For a long moment no sound came out; he was too scared. "Please," he gasped finally. "I don't—I really didn't have anything to do with the selling—"

"But you _let them_ get sold," Jellal hissed. "You see everyone that moves through there."

"Not only that," Julian spoke up, "But I hear it told that you inform Madam Genève when there is a particularly _interesting_ crop, don't you, Eris?"

"You don't understand—"

 _Madam would love Erza and her scarlet hair._ " _How many has she bought_?"

"I don't keep a tally—"

" _How many_?" Jellal pushed harder to punctuate his words. Eris' feet skidded across the concrete roof. Whining, he grasped Jellal's forearm with his bloody hand, fingers digging in like claws.

"Please—please."

Jellal had never felt colder. "I give no sympathies to men like you. How many has she bought?"

"Gods—you're going to kill me—"

"That could be the nicest thing that happens to you tonight," Jellal said. _Here is the monster_ ; Jellal tried to push it back for a moment, but all he could see was Erza. Erza in her cuffs, Erza the slave. Erza, for some heavy-handed man or some sadistic woman to use however they wanted. Magic pooled in his hand. Soon it wasn't going to be gravity that stole Eris' life, but the spell that had taken Simon from the world. "Answer me." His voice was barely a whisper.

Eris must not have liked what he saw in Jellal's face, "Hundreds," he stammered. "Hundreds and hundreds."

 _Hundreds_? Rage retreated, replaced by disgusted awe while he muddled through that.

Julian said, "Is she reselling them to people from out of town, cutting into Dee's business?"

"No. Madam Genève is buying them all and keeping them," Eris said. "Everyone that she can manage."

"See, and you said you had no information, Eris," Julian said after he took a moment to process Eris' words. "The question is, what is she doing with them all? I know her whores are running around undercutting me, I see them from time to time, but if there were hundreds it would be a difficult thing to hide."

Eris looked away. Julian was like a bloodhound. "What do you know?"

"She's—she's not making them all whores. She's using a lot of them for that magic shit she's making. That drug she's got. It burns them up until they're dead."

Julian's mouth went straighter than a sheet of paper. Jellal expected him to be outraged at the loss of life but he only asked, "She's producing that much? She has _that many_ buyers?"

"Yes—all over Fiore."

Julian cursed.

Jellal didn't _care_ about that. What he cared about was that Madam had her eyes set on Erza. What he cared about was she would buy and end any life to line her pocket. Though he didn't want his mind to go there, he couldn't help but wonder if Erza would have been considered for one of Madam's whores, or if she'd be used to make Illusion until there was nothing left. "What happens to their bodies?" He was afraid of the answer.

"There's been a lot of burning at the docks lately," Eris said. "They get thrown in with the coal in the boats. Their bones, what's left of them, is chucked into Scarlet Lake."

Scarlet Lake... A waterbody full of bodies and secrets.

Eris looked to Julian. "Mr. York, have mercy. I've answered your questions. Let me go."

"I'm not the one holding you over the edge," Julian said.

Jellal's arm really started to ache from holding the man at such a precarious angle. "You don't know anything else?"

Eris turned his attention to Jellal. "I told you _everything."_

Jellal's heart beat steady, cold.

"Judging by the look on his face, Eris, I think that might be a bad thing," Julian mused.

Julian was right, there was only one fate awaiting Eris. "I think, Eris, you should hold your breath."

"What?"

"To save yourself from screaming. Die with at least that dignity." The wind came by again, practically pulling the man out of Jellal's clutches. Eris didn't get a chance to scream; he fell too fast. Jellal made himself watch all the way until he splatted on the shadowed pavement way down below. Julian leaned over to look with him. "That was cold."

"You were never going to let him live." Jellal was (disappointed? Impressed?) with how detached his voice came out.

Julian half smiled, "No, I wasn't, but that was messy. I should send you out to peel him off the sidewalk before any of my guests see."

"Hardly anyone uses that alley," Jellal replied. It was remote, without street lamps. The only people that might be using it were people that were used to such sights.

"And that's why you're not down there with him. Next time you kill a man, Mr. Fernandez, consider a bullet, it makes the mess easier to clean up," Julian said.

"It's less personal."

"Are you so eager to feel every life flee its home?"

 _Yes. Yes. Yes._

Jellal massaged his temples, pushing out the crazy. "I just think if I'm going to kill a man I should at least have the decency to meet his gaze, to know how they feel on the brink of death."

"Honourable. I like you, Mr. Fernandez."

Jellal didn't know if he _liked_ being liked by a man like Julian York. "All of this is your fault. That man's death is on your hands."

"How so?" Julian asked.

"Madam Genève started collecting again for _you_. She hasn't been on top for a decade at least," Jellal said." But _you_ gave her the ability to work up the funds to get her little empire rolling again."

Julian was silent for a moment then said, "Perhaps you're right. I let my greed make my decisions. I met with her once simply because a smart businessman should always be watching for resurgence of the men and women that owned their cities before. During our meeting she mentioned to me that she's been working on a drug that uses magic power to give her customers the exact experience she wanted, but she'd hit a financial roadblock. It was an excellent idea," Julian said. "I merely suggested we strike up a business deal. She made it, I purchased it."

"And you thought having her under your thumb was a good place for her to be," Jellal reasoned.

"As any rational man might," Julian agreed. "So I paid her, and when I paid her she started amassing power. It was my mistake to think she'd be remotely honourable. Or humane. All those mages…" He got a faraway and difficult to read look in his eye.

Jellal glowered. "Madam Genève—she'd _never_ honour a deal like that if she thought she could get ahead." It was unfortunate he knew her so well.

Julian dropped himself down onto the cement riser that had so thrown Eris off balance. If he was nervous Jellal would give him the same treatment, he didn't show it. "I do the talking, Jellal, and the paying. I don't fuck with carrying out the deals, like making sure she follows the rules. I have people to do that for me."

 _Lazy. Entitled. Careless._ "What were your people doing?" Jellal asked.

"Some of them were living the highlife because Genève started paying them, too, but money can only buy so much. I have people that are loyal to me, Jellal, and when they told me she was undercutting me, that was the end of our business agreement." Julian rubbed his hands over his thin beard, scratching it. It was an action carried out in annoyance.

"Your sins are still many."

Julian raised a brow. "Oh?"

"You _knew_ she was using mages—"

"Not to death."

"Lying won't save you."

"Lying? How many people do you think would use a drug tainted in blood, regardless of how good it makes them feel?" Julian proposed.

"Those that were addicted."

"At first, yes, maybe, and after? I would have Innisfil in my pocket, sure, but I'm a hungry man, Mr. Fernandez. I want everything, including a good reputation. I won't be filed away with the other slum drug lords in the world. I strive to be better."

"A reformed kind of criminal?" Jellal asked with contempt. _Stop talking. Kill him. Kill him now;_ that would put an end to a lot of things, certainly. His magic pulsed under his skin.

Julian laughed. "I don't like getting my hands dirty."

"But you have no problem with anyone else doing the killing?"

Julian peered down to Eris' crumpled form. "You were the one that threw him over the edge. Let's not pretend that we're better men than what we are."

His words struck a chord in Jellal. Some of the self-righteousness cooled.

"Before you get bloodthirsty, Mr. Fernandez, consider our deal. You're in a unique position to right a lot of the wrongs here in my city, and funded by me, there isn't any place you can't go. Madam Genève will be the thorn that is but a memory when we're through breaking through her walls."

Jellal paused. "I just don't understand what I can do."

Julian tapped his face where Jellal's tattoo sat. "You can come home."

 _Home._ "To… the Vault?"

"Exactly."

* * *

Finished and wrapped in a towel, Erza opened the bathroom door in a puff of steam, assuming, incorrectly, that she was alone. Sienna stood from the bed, a long, dark bag in hand.

"I got you a dress for tonight."

"I don't need a dress," Erza replied.

"If you plan on going out into Gomorrah you do," Sienna said right back.

"No one ever said that I wanted to do that, either," she said just to be contrary. In reality, that's where she thought Jellal was, and that's where she wanted to be, too.

"Mr. York wants you to. Please, Erza. Just let me do what he asked of me. I don't want him to be mad."

When Erza said nothing, Sienna took that for consent. Undoing the bag's long zipper revealed a dress so red, to call it anything but scarlet would be a disservice. It was silken and strapless; a smattering of what Erza thought was jet stone was twisted into an elaborate design over the left breast.

"I can't wear that."

Sienna twisted it around to look at it. "Why not? I'm pretty sure I got the size right."

"That's too—it's too fine. I'll ruin it." Definitely.

"Elaborate and over the top is what we're going for," Sienna said with a smile.

"Why? Why can't I just—I have a dress—"

The other girl shook her head. "Natalie has this thing she likes to say: Some girls like diamonds, they like to be smothered with fancy things. They hunger for the taste of glamour and waste, rotten furs and murderous rings. All of Julian's sweethearts need their prince, he gives them flattery and filthy pearls."

"And I care why?" Erza asked.

"At Casino Gomorrah, if we're Julian's, we want for nothing. We always look the best because we are the best. He thinks we're all material girls." She met Erza's eyes squarely, some of the luster falling out of her eyes. "To be anything else in Gomorrah is dangerous."

"Why?"

Sienna said, "No where is safe now that Madam Genève is back in business, and a girl like you attracts a lot of attention. If you're dressed like someone who can be bought, people will try to buy you. In Gomorrah there is some safety, Julian is careful about who he lets in here, but you don't want to end up back in the Hive again, Erza. I think Jellal would kill a lot of people to get you out. No one wants to be responsible for that much blood."

Erza clutched the towel, remembering, _I was a monster_. "Did he—did he kill that man?"

Sienna looked away as she said, "I think Jellal Fernandez has killed many men. And I think he feels righteous doing it, too."

A stone dropped in Erza's heart. "Why? Why did he kill him?" She was watching Simon die all over again, seeing that malicious look in Jellal's eye. She didn't know him when he was like that. He was _terrifying_. _And yet, still someone you love._ Yes.

Sienna said, "To save the world of some wretchedness. To avenge you, Erza."

"Me?"

"You, and girls like you; girls that men love that get taken away," Sienna replied.

Erza's mouth went dry. "Jellal doesn't—"

"You don't believe that."

Erza opened her mouth and her inner-most thoughts tumbled out. "If he loved me, last night would have gone differently."

"Because he didn't kiss you?" Sienna queried. Without waiting for a reply she said, "It was because he loved you that he didn't."

Erza screwed up her face, unsure why exactly she was taking advice about love from a whore. When she said as much Sienna laughed.

"I'm the best person to ask," she replied. "I know what it doesn't look like." Going to the closet she pulled out a piece of lingerie. A scrap of cloth, really. It was black and lacy and see-through. "But, if you don't believe me, put this on tonight and see what he has to say."

Erza flushed imagining what Jellal would do. "If I wanted to humiliate myself in that way I have my own lingerie to wear."

"Not here you don't," Sienna replied.

Erza, for a moment feeling like she had the upper hand, reached for her magic and donned the sexiest piece of clothing she owned, a strappy black thong, a bra that was underwire and threads of lace that just barely covered her nipples. When she was finished and the light faded, Sienna's eyes went from surprised to hungry in the blink of an eye.

"Natalie would love you."

Erza's skin erupted in goosebumps. No one had ever spoken to her quite like that before, in that tone with that look in their eye. Especially another woman. She composed herself. "I don't need—" She trailed off again as Sienna stepped close to her, fingers reaching to tuck her hair behind her ear, then trailing down her throat, over her collarbone to the top of her breast.

"I think Jellal would really enjoy something like this. You should wear it for him, Erza, and I'd like to be there when you do."

The tips of Erza's ears burned. Pulling out of Sienna's grasp, she took the dress from the woman's hand. "Jellal and I don't really have that kind of relationship."

Sienna's lackadaisical shrug dug into Erza's skin and lingered way more than any of her words ever could. "Your loss, then, someone else's gain."

Erza clutched the dress tighter to her chest, feeling the lingerie on her body through the silken material, wondering all the while what it would be like if she _did_ wear it for him. _'Why don't you ask him who his go-to girl is?'_

She didn't think she could, and yet, she didn't know if she could _not,_ either.


	9. Chapter 9

The elevator dinged and the doors gaped open. Pausing, a piece of scallop halfway to his mouth, Jellal met her eyes in the dusky night. All of the air went out of his lungs as soon as he saw her. She was porcelain and scarlet: porcelain skin, scarlet dress, scarlet hair laced in a braid over her porcelain shoulder, matte scarlet lips. She stepped out, Sienna beside her, and lifted her gaze to his. Jellal was ultra aware of the blood dampening his sleeve, of the man crumpled down in the alley below, of Erza in all of her beautiful, terrible glory.

"It seems Sienna had the same thing in mind as I did," Julian mused. Wiping his mouth, he stood and waved the girls over. Jellal's fingers pulsed, his heart hammered with nerves. He kept looking between his bloody sleeve, the gash in the table where Julian's man jammed the knife through Eris' hand, and then back at Erza. She was closer now, her steps sure in high heels taller than anything Jellal had ever seen before.

"It's good manners to stand, Jellal," Julian said. Jellal didn't know if he could, but he tried anyway. Somehow, he got his feet under his body just as Erza came to the table. Her eyes cut into him; there was a question on her lips. She wasn't fooled by the darkness; she saw the blood on his sleeve. Jellal looked away from her.

"Gentlemen," Sienna said with an uncertain smile.

"Sienna, I wasn't expecting you to be up here," Julian said.

"I'm sorry, Mr. York. I didn't mean to interrupt—"

"Jellal and I are finished our discussion, you may join us." He looked to Erza. "You clean up quite well, Miss Scarlet. Good work, Sienna."

"Thank you, Sir," Sienna said, relaxing slightly.

Erza wasn't feeling so generous. She said nothing at all.

Julian didn't seem perturbed. Grabbing Sienna by the waist he pulled her in and kissed her mouth, all of his earlier anger not gone, but hidden away. She bowed into him and returned the kiss, obviously used to the treatment.

When he pulled away he said, "Have a seat." He waved Erza into the spot between he and Jellal but pulled Sienna down on his lap, curling his hand up so he was cupping her breast. She didn't flinch, leaning into him like she belonged. Erza, remaining exactly where she was, looked away, face hot again. Damn her inclination to blush.

"I was hoping Natalie would be up here," Sienna said as she weaved her fingers through Julian's hair.

"Not tonight. She's helping Logan downstairs."

Sienna pouted. "Oh."

To Erza Julian said, "Freedom suits you, Miss Scarlet. You were looking a little bedraggled earlier."

Erza didn't mean to be so cutting, but she had no control over her temper. "Have you ever been to the Hive?"

He made a face but didn't scold her. "I've been inside, yes. Deplorable place. But, with any luck, it won't be for much longer." He smiled at Jellal.

Erza, placated just slightly, shifted her weight from foot to foot.

"Sit, please, Miss Scarlet. I wanted to discuss something with you," Julian pushed. He lifted his hand and Kristy appeared again, toting a glass of wine. She dropped it down in front of Erza.

"None for me?" Sienna asked.

"You're working tonight, aren't you, Sienna? No one wants a drunk whore."

Jellal saw a flicker of annoyance in Sienna's face, but she didn't talk back.

"Sit, Erza, drink some wine," Julian said again.

Erza wavered, then pulled out the chair and lowered herself into it, tugging at the hem of her dress as she did so to make sure everything that should be covered was. Her knees bumped Jellal's under the table. Sitting so close to him, she was aware of what she wore _beneath_ the dress. She'd abandoned the bra because of the dresses strapless nature, but the underwear was still very much in place. _'I think Jellal would really enjoy something like this. You should wear it for him.'_ She told herself that Sienna's words _weren't_ the reason she kept them on. "What do you want to discuss?"

"I want to offer you a job here at Casino Gomorrah," Julian said bluntly.

"What?" she and Jellal said in unison.

"You're very beautiful, Erza. The men would love you, and of course I would let you make your own rules—"

"No," Jellal said shortly.

"I was asking Miss Scarlet," Julian said.

"No," Jellal said again.

Some of the surprise retreated enough for Erza to say, "I'm not working for you."

"You haven't even heard the terms or rate of pay I'll offer," Julian said.

"It doesn't matter," Erza replied. "I'm not staying here, Jellal and I are leaving." She stood. "Come on, Jellal, let's get out of this shitty casino and this shitty town." She said it like she only expected one thing from him. Jellal almost stood and followed her simply because she had that effect on him, but he didn't.

"Jellal?" Erza looked at him expectantly.

"Mmm…" Julian hummed with a smile. "I'm a little insulted. Do you think my casino is shitty, Sienna?"

"No, Sir," Sienna said. She gave Erza a, _sit the fuck down, shut up and be politer,_ look.

"Jellal." Erza grabbed his wrist right over where Eris did, causing Jellal to flinch. The blood was cool and tacky under her hand.

"Let go of me, Erza."

"What's wrong with you? This man came into your room with a _gun_ ," she said, as if he forgot.

"Mr. Fernandez and I have moved past that, right?" Julian asked.

"I'm staying in Innisfil for a bit, Erza," Jellal said, unable to meet her eye.

Erza squeezed his wrist tighter. "Why?"

He was silent.

On stage, Anna stopped singing. Julian patted Sienna's behind. "I have another appointment, Sienna, and you have to get to work. Erza, the offer is still open, should you change your mind" He looked to Jellal. "I'll have your things brought to a new room, Mr. Fernandez, one with a balcony facing Scarlet Lake on the seventeenth floor. It's a premium suite, on the house. Feel free to stay up here and finish your dinner, or wander around. I'll let everyone know that the only thing you have to pay for is the tables downstairs." He reached into his pocket and brought out a wad of cash. He dropped it to the table and slid it over to Jellal. "There is your advance. There is plenty more where that came from as soon as I start seeing some results."

Jellal felt Erza's gaze burning him up as he reached and took the money, stuffing it into his stolen suit.

"Enjoy your evenings." Julian pushed Sienna off and stood. He kissed the redhead one more time, then walked with purpose to the elevator. It slid open and swallowed him up.

"That went well then, I take it?" Sienna asked into the silence.

Jellal lifted his gaze to meet her blue eyes. "I'm alive, aren't I?"

Sienna smiled and lied. "I didn't think you'd be anything but perfect after your conversation." She switched gears. "Do you want to be my first customers tonight?" She came in close and drew a line down Erza's back. "I can't stop thinking about you in those panties."

Erza felt the blood rush from her head. "What?"

"You looked so fucking hot," Sienna said lewdly and shamelessly squeezed Erza's behind. The redhead made a fist—to punch her? who knew?—but did nothing with it, she was too shocked.

Blind to her danger, or maybe thinking that she was in none, Sienna asked, "You'll be a gentleman and pay for Erza too, won't you, Jellal?"

 _Definitely_. Jellal's mouth felt dry, his pants too tight. "Get out of here, Sienna." Before he could say anything stupid.

"Is that a no?"

"That's a no," he confirmed.

"Suit yourself. I'll be downstairs, if you change your mind." She patted Erza's behind once more, then waved and twitched away, black and white cha cha dress swirling around her long, pale legs. She'd found shoes somewhere, Jellal saw, white ones with clear diamonds in the heels. He wondered if they were real or not. Given his impression of Julian York he knew which option he was leaning towards.

Erza was silent for only a moment, then said, "You're staying here?"

Apparently they weren't going to talk about Sienna. "It seems that way."

Erza looked around the lounge. People were starting to speak again now that the girl had disappeared from the stage. She felt exposed standing there. "Can we go somewhere else? Back to your room, or—or I don't know—somewhere private?"

Jellal knew he should tell her no. He nodded instead, Scarlet Lake catching his attention. "Follow me."

* * *

He couldn't keep his eyes off of her. The worst bit was that she knew it, too. She kept catching him stealing glances, his eyes lingering around her lips when she licked the dry lipstick, around her chest when she breathed deeply, around her behind as she walked into the opening elevator.

"What is it?" Erza asked finally when the doors closed.

Jellal planted his hands on the wrought iron railing at his back and swallowed a lump in his throat. "What?"

"What's wrong? Why do you keep looking at me?"

Knowing he was caught, Jellal stammered. "Erza—you look—"

 _Bad?_ She smoothed her hand over her dress. "Sienna picked it out. I wouldn't wear something like this normally—"

"You look nice." _Nice,_ Jellal scolded himself. She looked fantastic, but his head was stupider than usual when she was around, nice was the best adjective he could come up with.

Erza opened her mouth to be cocky and self-assured like she would when other men complimented her, but it was _different_ with Jellal. "You look good, too." She touched his lapel, unable to help herself. "Even if there's blood on you."

The elevator doors opened, spitting them out on Casino Gomorrah's ground floor. The din drowned out any reply Jellal might have thought to give. He wondered if he could stay there in the casino and avoid talking to her completely, but a glance down at her through his lashes told him not just no, but _definitely_ not. Resigned, he led her through the crowds towards the back, where a wide set of glass doors leading out to a huge patio waited. Erza came, hot on his heels.

A man in a suit nodded and held open the door, ushering them out into the night. "Sir, Madam."

Jellal nodded his thanks. The nighttime air was cool on his hot face, and on his wet sleeve. The smell of cigarette smoke was in the air, thick and pungent, coupled with the sweet smell of alcohol. Both smells were drowned out by Erza's perfume. His eyes tracked to her again. Her hair, plaited as it was, shone like a river of rubies. He wanted to touch it but didn't.

"Where are we going?" Erza asked with her scarlet mouth.

Jellal faced forward again. "To the lakeside." What kind of man brought a girl like Erza to a lake full of bodies? _'Let's not pretend that we're better men than what we are.'_

Right.

"There's a path there. It's secluded." Which maybe wasn't the best option, considering how he was feeling in that moment. Lunatic. Or near enough.

Erza didn't relax. That was good. "It's cool out here," she said, rubbing her arms as she took the stairs carefully in her tall shoes.

Jellal thought about offering her his jacket, but didn't want to give her the opportunity to feel Eris' blood on her skin. "We won't stay out long."

On the ground level he offered Erza his hand, helping her off the stairs. He released her again immediately, turning to navigate the gravel pathway before them. Large hedgerows rose up out of the well-kept grass, getting taller and taller the further they went from the Casino. Jellal tossed a look over his shoulder. Twenty steps in and he couldn't see the mouth of the alley he threw Eris into. Thirty steps and Casino Gomorrah was swallowed up, everything but its sound hidden in the thick maze-like bushes.

"It's pretty out here," Erza said, lifting her face to the moon.

"In its own way, yes, I suppose," Jellal agreed. If he didn't know Innisfil as well as he did, Casino Gomorrah would almost make it seem like a beautiful city.

Now that the silence was broken Erza said, "Sienna is quite the character. She likes to tease."

Jellal glanced at her freckle-dusted face and told her the truth. "I don't think she was teasing." Too clearly he imagined Sienna as Erza. Erza as Erza. Erza against the bathroom counter. Erza—

"Is she as wonderful as she claims?" Erza asked, a bite in her voice.

Jellal's hot flush was hidden by the night. There was no sense hiding or denying. "She comes by her money honestly." All of Madam's whores were wonderful, she made sure to train them herself.

Erza clammed up, obviously brooding on that. Jellal didn't know what to say to make it better.

The hedges peeled back to reveal Scarlet Lake. It was large enough that small waves lapped at the docks in a gentle breeze. There were no ships by Casino Gomorrah, no burning bodies or people lurking to slip the dead into the water. There was just he and Erza, and whatever it was that lingered in the lake's deep waters.

Erza walked down the gravel path, taking it to the dock without waiting to see if Jellal followed. He did, of course. He always wanted to be near her, even when she was peeling back the layers and seeing what kind of person he really was beneath.

She came to a stop at the very end of the dock, one hand rested on the metal beam that supported the structure. "Is that man dead?"

Jellal stopped a foot behind her and studied the way the breeze slipped through her hair like soft fingers, the way her smooth skin shone in the red-tinged light. "What man?"

"Whosever blood is on your sleeve," Erza replied.

Jellal was quiet for so long, Erza thought he wouldn't answer. Then he said, "He wasn't a good man."

"Like the man from the Hive wasn't?" Erza faced him, wanting to see her childhood friend in his eyes. She found him, not the bloodthirsty killer from the Tower of Heaven. _Or… maybe they were always the same people,_ she thought.

"You would be wise to leave this place, Erza," Jellal said. "It's dangerous." He would never ask, though. Suggesting was as close as he came.

She shook her head. "Why are you killing people without mercy—"

"This _is_ their mercy. I'm—" _Drowning in the blood._ No. He had _purpose_. "All of the people—Andre, Eris, Ingin—they died for their sins. Trust me when I say they _deserved_ it. There was no redemption for men like them."

She didn't even know about the last one. "I'm afraid of you becoming lost again." She didn't want to say it, but the fear was very real. She couldn't deal with that again.

"I'm the Tower of Heaven's no longer. I promise, Erza," Jellal told her and wished that the conviction with which he spoke also lived in his heart. _I'm not. I'm not._ Innisfil was making him crazy. Or more so. or—he had no fucking idea anymore.

Erza asked the question that had been plaguing him since he arrived in town and threw Ingin to the fish. "Then why are you staying here?"

He looked out into the water and sighed. "There is something that requires my attention." _Magnifique._ Yes, that was why. It was easier justifying everything when he imagined Madam's orange tipped nails sliding through his hair, touching his smile, her voice telling him what was right with his tongue and what was right with his fingers and what was right with everything else.

"What?" Erza pushed.

"It's a personal matter."

"One you can share with that man, but not with me?" she asked.

Jellal clenched his jaw tightly together and told a half-truth. "He's paying me to take care of something, Erza."

"Making you a hired killer." She almost laughed. Or maybe she almost cried.

Jellal said nothing.

"Please, Jellal. Tell me what's happening. _Why_ are you here?"

 _Say something._ He couldn't stand the way her eyes filled with tears. "To stop a very bad woman from hurting a lot of people." He made himself look at her as he said it, willing her to understand. "She's buying women and men, anyone she can. The ones she doesn't make into whores— _slaves_ —she kills to make a profit. I have to put an end to it. If destroying her and what she's built makes me a killer for hire, then so be it, but this is a path I will not stray from."

Erza held her breath for two heartbeats, half relishing the relief she felt, half shaming herself for it. "I see."

"Sometimes death is the only way. Sometimes people can't be redeemed." Jellal knew he was trying to justify his actions.

Erza said, "Sorano made it sound like you had personal business here."

"Sorano?" Jellal asked.

Erza pressed her lips together and nodded. "We—we ran into each other days ago. She told me I could find you here."

Jellal would have wondered how the hell Sorano knew that, but he was snagged. "You came here looking for me," he said, putting two and two together. "You weren't just wandering around."

"I didn't have anywhere to go or anything to do after Fairy Tail disbanded," Erza admitted.

"So you thought to find me."

"Yes." It was hard to force the word out, but once she'd said it, Erza felt relief.

 _Yes._ Jellal's chest got tight. "And now?"

"Now what?" Erza asked.

"What will you do, Erza, now that you've found me?" He wondered if she'd try to take him into the Magic Council, if she'd just mosey on her way, if she'd… stay.

Erza fussed with the onyx stones under her breasts nervously. "I… I don't know."

Jellal opened his mouth and said something both stupid _and_ selfish. "Stay with me." To make sure he had someone to remind him of who he was. Someone sane, someone not afraid to stop him if he got too rough.

"Here?"

He only stared at her, wondering if he'd made a mistake, if her staying in Innisfil meant that she was in danger. _Of you, or Madam?_ Why not both?

"Sorano was right. This job _is_ different than the others, isn't it?" Erza asked, reading him easily.

"Yes."

"It's closer to you."

"Yes."

"What are you afraid of?" Because that was surely fear in his eye.

"Everything."

It wasn't the word itself, but the way Jellal spoke it, in a hushed whisper with barely any breath in his lungs, that gave Erza chills. Erza stepped into him and swiped the hair back off his forehead with a hand that shook more than she liked, but at least now she could look into his eyes. "What do you mean?"

Jellal grabbed her wrist and held it tight, guiding her palm to its home over his heart. He wondered if she felt how strangely it beat, then he wondered if he cared. "This town is the devil on my back." It felt good to admit it.

When Erza opened her mouth again, Jellal expected her to ask, _'Why_?' but she only said, "I'll stay." There was never really any hope of her leaving anyway.

Jellal swallowed; his throat felt hot and tight. "Thank you." Still aware of her palm pressed against his chest and his hand wrapped firmly around her wrist, he told her, "What I wanted to say earlier was that you looked beautiful." Red was the most beautiful colour and Erza was enshrouded in it, illuminated by the pulsing light of Scarlet Lake, laced in it with her plaited hair, bathed in it in the silken dress she wore.

"You think so?" Erza hated how wispy her voice sounded, but the hell if she could change it.

Jellal let his fingers find the tuft at the end of her braid where it hung just below her breasts. Her hair was as soft as he remembered—softer, because there were no brushes or conditioners in the Tower of Heaven. Erza was leaning into him, her doe eyes wide, her lips moist and just barely parted. Jellal knew he could…

If he wanted…

His hand lifted to her cheek. Her skin was soft and smooth, her mouth warm where it pressed into his thumb and closed ever so slightly. He knew if he pressed his mouth to hers he would taste lipstick. Kissing her would be like tearing open old wounds, ones that had healed badly and wanted to bleed again. He grasped her waist where it dipped and brought their bodies together.

"Jellal—" _Are you going to kiss me?_ Erza couldn't ask around his mouth on hers. The kiss he gave her was vestal _and_ wanton, if it could be both, because while his mouth behaved his _hands_ , clasping at her dress, feeling her body like he'd been _dying_ of starvation, did _not._ The pained sigh he gave her was surely indecent. She was surprised to return one of her own.

The abrupt report of a gun going off in the distance broke up the moment. Leave it to Innisfil to ruin everything. Though Jellal didn't know what he would have done had they gone on uninterrupted. His hands had one idea, both of them fisting in the fabric at her waist; his body seemed to agree, harder than it had any goddamn right to be. He took his mouth away and released her, his palms sweaty. Distantly, he hoped the red of her dress would hide the damp bloodstain she surely had on her back. The thought was sobering. _Monstrous men like you._

Stepping away, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. It came away red with lipstick.

Erza gazed at him with eyes still cloudy with want but full of reserve. She almost felt brave enough to ask, _'Who did you imagine when you took Illusion,_ ' but her mouth was full of cotton. Instead she fixed her lipstick, then her dress, then moved, walking with purpose past Jellal. It helped to keep her calm when she couldn't see his eyes, the intense desire in them, the reckless and righteous abandon that belonged inside the Tower of Heaven.

* * *

Thanks for all of the support, guys!


	10. Chapter 10

Erza's lips burned like they'd been slicked with wildfire. Her skin felt raw, and her legs like she'd run miles and miles. Walking, she was aware of Jellal at her back, following her steps. She kept fingering the onyx stones under her breasts nervously, wondering what that kiss meant now. Maybe nothing. If she was an idiot and believed that. Things between her and Jellal had always been complicated, now that kiss only made it worse. _He's a criminal_. It wasn't even like she could say he was wrongly accused of his crimes. He was absolutely, unequivocally guilty.

"Erza." His voice cut through her single-minded jaunt back to the hotel. "Erza, wait." He sounded vulnerable.

She slowed and turned, nervous to the last. Jellal looked at her with dark hazel eyes. He looked torn, uncertain. She'd never really seen him that way. Well, maybe when they were kids, fighting for their lives. And that one time, when he'd blatantly lied and told her he was engaged. What an idiot.

"What is it?" Her voice tried to crack.

He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, more nervous than he'd been even a moment ago before he'd kissed her. "I'm sorry. If—if it was out of line."

Erza didn't know what to say. Was it out of line? Maybe she'd had that kiss coming to her for a long, long time. But she never knew what she'd _do_ with it. As if a kiss was something that you could do something with at all. She turned back around and looked upon the white facade of Casino Gomorrah. Her ankles tried to roll in her heels as she walked.

"Erza—"

"Just give me some time, Jellal," she replied shortly. Some time to process, at least.

He fell back a few paces, wounded, but unable to voice exactly _why_. Or unwilling to. It was always harder with Erza than it was with other women. Others didn't know all of his most wretched secrets. They didn't know him before and after he belonged to the Tower of Heaven and Ultear. They were blips. Bumps in the road that had _always_ led to Erza Scarlet. He felt her flippant disregard like a bullet to the chest. He lagged more.

Erza didn't slow, as if she were hell-bent on one thing and one thing only; getting inside the casino and away from him. He let her go.

* * *

Erza didn't know when exactly she lost Jellal. Maybe way back on the path, maybe just inside the rioting casino. Whatever the case, he wasn't behind her and she was actually sort of grateful. Not because she didn't want to be near him, but because she wanted to be near him too much. Jellal represented a loss of her faculties. Jellal represented a loss of her morality. Jellal made her think and say and do things she didn't think herself capable of. Like overlooking the fact that he'd taken Simon's life. Erza thought that every time she looked at Jellal, she would and _should_ see the rage that had made him capable of that evil. The hatred. The man that was going to give her and all of her friends to the Tower of Heaven. And she _could_. What scared her was not knowing that the person capable of such a thing had kissed her, but knowing that she let him, and she _liked_ it.

The knowledge was going to haunt her conscience.

She wandered aimlessly, weaving in and out of the slot machines, watching people lose, lose, lose. The odd ding told her that some won, too. She kept turning over the kiss in her mind. His mouth felt imprinted on hers. She licked her lips and imagined she could still taste him. She looked over her shoulder again, searching for him in the crowd. He was nowhere to be found.

"You look like you're looking for someone," said a familiar voice.

Erza turned and faced Julian York. "Julian."

"I'll confess, I'm unused to people addressing me so informally," he replied.

"Respect is earned," Erza told him.

He smiled so quick she would have missed it if she wasn't watching his mouth. "I suppose I can't fault you for that. Will you give me a chance to?"

Erza looked at him warily. "How so?"

"Have a drink with me."

"I thought you had business elsewhere?" Erza asked.

"That's done now," he told her.

Erza looked away. "Thanks for the offer, but I'll pass. Excuse me."

Julian caught her hand and pulled her up short. "You look so distraught."

Erza flexed her fingers but did nothing, not yet. "It's been a long couple of days."

"That's an excellent reason to come into my lounge and relax then." he offered.

"I'm not a woman for hire," Erza put forward. "And I'm not one of your whores that you can just use."

"I promise to treat you with dignity and respect," he said, hand over his heart like he was swearing an oath. "Come, Miss Scarlet, let's get to know each other."

Erza flexed her fingers again. "I'm tired. I need a room—"

"I'll provide one. On the house if you have a drink with me," Julian said.

"You're trying to buy me." The thought made her riotously angry.

"The only thing I'm buying is the alcohol," Julian said. "Come. Forget the lounge, we'll sit at the bar so you may leave with your dignity in tact."

Erza hesitated, then caved. Her head was full of too much shit anyway. It would be nice to dull it out for just a little, right? "Very well. But if you try anything—"

"Yes, I still remember your last threat," Julian told her blandly. "Come."

* * *

Eight whiskies and two gin and tonics later, Jellal was seven grand deep at a bad roulette table. Every time the marble hit the wheel and kept on spinning past the number he'd bet on he cringed, short another three hundred bucks.

A hand landed between his shoulder blades and a shock of red hair came into view. His heart leapt, thinking it was Erza, but then he saw that the red wasn't quite as pure. Turning his head, he looked into Sienna's freckled face.

"I've been watching you."

"…Sienna."

"The tables hate you as much as ever, huh?" She rubbed his back from his shoulder to the top of his belt.

"I'm doing alright."

She darted in and kissed his cheek, lips wet and smooth. "No, you're not. Casino Gomorrah is doing alright. Julian York is doing alright. You're wasting your money."

"Shut up."

She ignored him and asked blatantly, "Is that what's bothering you?" She looked over to where Erza was leaning drunkenly on her hand, listening to the criminal Julian York. They'd been there for an hour at least, laughing and talking. Well, Julian was laughing. Erza had cracked a few smiles, gradually loosening up the drunker she became. Jellal's neck hurt from craning over his shoulder to watch when he wasn't looking at how much he was losing.

"Mm." The grunt was guttural and non-committal.

"Are you in, sir?" asked the roulette banker when Jellal was slow to place his next bet.

"I think maybe throw it all on number nine, Jellal. Red," Sienna suggested before he could decide either way.

Red for scarlet. Jellal looked at Erza at the bar. She lifted her glass to her lips. It was the fourth such martini. Apparently neither of them were drunk enough. He turned away and found Sienna again. "Yeah?"

Sienna grabbed the top chip off his pile and placed burgundy lips on it in a good-luck kiss. "Go ahead."

"If I lose—" _Then I have nothing._

"Life is about taking chances," she said playfully. "Go ahead."

 _Why not?_ He was drunk enough to believe her, to think it was a good idea. As if a kiss would mean something, all of the chips went to number nine. The banker spun. Jellal held his breath and watched the little ball bounce over the ridges. When it first started to slow he watched it bound over to number thirty. Then it jarred to twenty-six. Right next to nine. Disappointment welled inside. Then the marble rocked forward.

Up, up, over the ledge.

And into the number nine slot.

The intense wave of pleasure he felt was like none before. _This_ was why he liked to gamble. The risk, the thrill. The _reward._

Sienna grabbed him around the neck and cheered loudly, along with the rest of the table. Jellal held her back, grabbing around her waist, an automatic response.

"Excellent work, Sir," said the banker as he shoveled over another thirty grand. "Another round?"

"Come on," Sienna said. "Let's cash out."

He almost told her no, longing to feel that high again and again. Good sense told him it was a bad idea. Still, the only reason he walked away was because Sienna gathered up all of the chips, stuffing them into her purse, then grabbed his hand and started dragging him towards the PAY OUT sign hanging high over the other end of the casino.

"How did you know it was going to be nine?" Jellal asked.

"Lucky guess, Jellal." She looked over her shoulder and met his eye. "It's all about luck."

And that's what always trapped him, the thought that there should be more to it than that. He let it go.

At the desk a man in a vest took his chips and traded them for bills instead of a cheque at Sienna's request. Jellal took the money with a clear conscience, glad it wasn't just a hitman's haul any longer.

Sienna looped her arm through his and came in close. "So, what are you going to do with your winnings?"

"…Not too sure." Buy more alcohol so he didn't think about Erza saying, _'You're a hired killer.'_ So he didn't think about Erza turning away after he kissed her. so he didn't think about Erza sitting at the bar with Julian York.

"I think maybe you should invite a girl up to your room." She looked at him through her thick lashes, a smile on her ruby mouth. "I have this." Reaching between her breasts she pulled out not a card but a long, silver key. "It's for your new room."

Jellal faltered. "Erza…"

"There are some things I wanted to talk to you about, but we can invite her, if you trust her." She winked then stood on tiptoe and looked through the casino. Jellal had an easier time of it, being as tall as he was. He could see where Erza and Julian had sat. Now there were two empty stools and two empty glasses. They were gone.

"Huh," Sienna mused. "I don't see her. She was right there..."

"She left." His chest felt empty when he said it.

"With Mr. York?" She raised her brows.

Jellal didn't answer beyond pulling her out of the main casino and towards the elevators.

* * *

Erza looked one more time over her shoulder to where Jellal held Sienna around the waist, then stood, ignoring Julian's offered hand.

Julian brushed off her abruptness and said, "Your room is this way."

Erza followed him out of the casino to a pair of elevators.

"Are you sure you won't reconsider my offer?" Julian asked as they waited for the metal trap to arrive. "You are quite beautiful, Erza." His fingers found the end of her braid.

Erza batted his hand away. "I told you—"

He wasn't intimidated by her, cutting in where other men wouldn't have dared. "I'm not just in the business of whores. You could audition for the stage, if you'd like to sing, or dance."

Erza's love for theater made her heart clench. She dismissed the wanton urge as soon as she felt it, remembering how it went the last time she got on stage. She didn't want to relive that again; stage fright had been both humiliating and humbling.

"We're all good at something, Julian. I'm a warrior, not an actor." There were some nights she wanted to be both. And some nights when she wanted to be one not the other. Trading armour for silk, steel for props, practical footwear for something sophisticated and fantastic. Maybe then Jellal wouldn't be tempted to kiss her then go off with a whore who, ' _came by her money honestly_.' What the fuck did that even _mean_?

She recognized what was happening immediately. Jealousy wasn't something that she particularly enjoyed feeling. She quashed it as well as she could. So what if she wasn't like other girls? So what if she preferred smelling like steel and oil than perfume and bath salts? So. Fucking. What?

"I suppose," Julian agreed, stabbing into her tortured thoughts. "The offer is open. There are many other things you could do here at Casino Gomorrah." He got a look in his eye like he was going to add something else, but let those words fizzle out in favour of saying, "I think you'll enjoy your room. It's not a prime spot like Jellal's, but you can see Innisfil from the window. As I was telling Jellal, the city is quite beautiful at night."

She found herself asking, "What room is he staying in?"

Julian gave her a sideways look. "Are you planning late-night visits?"

Erza tried not to fidget and blush. "I'm just curious."

He smirked. "Room seven-oh-three, fourteenth floor."

Seven-oh-three. The number felt burned into her mind.

The elevator arrived and opened. Julian waved her inside the empty rectangle. Erza found the corner, as far away from him as she could be, and watched him stab number twelve. The doors whooshed closed, cutting them off from the rest of the casino.

"Will you be staying with us for long, Miss Scarlet?" His hazel eyes clung to her body, mainly her breasts and her hips.

Erza didn't shift and she didn't cover herself, though she _thought_ of it. "As long as Jellal is here."

"You two are close."

"Close enough."

"Lovers?"

The tips of her ears burned. "We're—" She didn't _know_. Something.

Julian grinned. "Complicated. Very well. I think I should tell you though, I suspect Jellal is going to be rather busy doing things for me, which means he won't have very much time to entertain you. If you find yourself bored, you can simply find Logan in Casino Gomorrah. Generally, he's in the Theater Room overseeing the entertainment. He'll be able to locate me with some ease. I'll be more than happy to entertain you."

"That's… kind of you," Erza said.

Julian smiled like he was pleased with himself—his _generosity_. "And, if you decide that you would like a job, I will make one immediately available to you."

The elevator slowed, then stopped. The doors slipped open. Julian placed his hand lightly above Erza's lower back and led her out and left. The redhead stiffened with his hand on her back but didn't move away. He wasn't doing anything she didn't particularly like yet.

"You're in 546." He stopped in front of the door and opened it with a key card. Erza expected him to stay out there and usher her inside, but he came right on in with her. The room was huge. White walls, black furniture, black and white carpet in the center only under a huge coffee table, stained black wood floors everywhere else. The bed, way in the back of the room nudged up against a wall with long, wide windows covered by white drapes, was huge. The comforter was black. The sheets were white. The only splash of colour were the blood-red pillows.

"Adequate?" Julian asked.

 _Too much._ Way too audacious for her tastes. But… This was where Jellal was, so this was where she'd be; she promised to stay. "It's wonderful. Thank you."

He handed her the key card, fingers lingering too long on hers. "I'd like to get to know you a lot better, Miss Scarlet."

She was about to tell him that the feeling _wasn't_ mutual, but wouldn't it be good to know who exactly it was that Jellal was working with? _For?_ "I'd like that."

His eyes flashed, his smile widened. "I'll be in touch." He released her hand and turned away. Erza watched him until the door was closed. He was a man that bore watching. Not only because he was pleasant enough to look at, but because under his smiling mouth was a ruthlessness that made her feel cold.

* * *

Walking through the hotel with his hand on Sienna's waist, Jellal felt everything, her muscles moving, her warmth. Feeling too close, too intimate, he tried to pull away, but she held him over her hip with tight fingers. There was a warning in that grasp, one he didn't understand, but one that he recognized well enough.

Sienna inserted the key and the door popped open soundlessly. Inside, the room was dark.

Leading him inside, the redhead whispered, "Lumen low." Lights came on, just barely illuminating the room. She closed and locked the door while Jellal walked around. Dark floors, dark windows with dark drapes, a bubbling hot tub to the left, king sized bed to the right. Shower stocked with dark towels down a long hallway. He came back into the main room and saw there was a sliding glass door leading out to a huge balcony that overlooked Scarlet Lake and part of Innisfil. The waters were so bright that the forest behind it was illuminated. There was someone down on the docks were he'd kissed Erza a couple hours before. Over their shoulder was a slack sack that he had to assume was a body. Another offering to the always-hungry lake.

Home sweet home.

"What did you want to say?"

She grabbed his shoulder and turned him from the window. Her hand was warm through his jacket. "I wanted to ask what you and Mr. York talked about."

Jellal said coldly, "He wants to pay me to kill Madam Genève. And he wants to pay me to make anti-magic lacrima."

Worry flitted across her face. "He wants you to kill Madam Genève?"

Jellal blurted the other thing that had been bothering him. "He wants me to try to get back into the Vault."

"Back?"

"Yes."

"You can't just walk in there and take the place by storm; she has guards—"

"He thinks I should masquerade as one of her whores."

Sienna was silent for a moment, then said, "Pretend isn't a game Madam plays well. She won't just let you walk in and claim that you want to come back."

"I'm a good liar." The best.

"Not that good. She knows you hated it, Jellal, she'll be suspicious. If she doesn't kill you there, she'll keep you as her special pet. You'll have even less freedom then you did when we were kids."

He didn't know if he was supposed to feel grateful that Madam had let them off their leashes to race around Innisfil, collecting customers. Men with rough hands, women with cutting tongues. The richest of the rich. The most depraved. Elite. Innisfil's debutantes. To come back empty handed was to suffer lashings. And to try to not come back at all meant death. Back then most of her whores knew there wasn't much point in running. Madam clothed and fed and cared for them, gave them some place to stay and gave them purpose when they had none.

"She'll let me through."

"You don't know that. I really am afraid she'll kill you. Or use you to make drugs, or—"

"My smile was her favorite. She'll let me through." His chest felt hollow.

Sienna faltered. "Then she'll never let you go."

He didn't want to _think_ about that. "She won't be able to keep me." He was a child no longer. So what if she haunted his dreams? _Magnifique._ She wasn't the worst monster the world could birth. "When the time comes, I will end Madam Genève and sever the hold she has on this city. I'll do what it takes."

"I believe you," she said after a pregnant pause.

Jellal turned and looked back out the window. The person dumping the body was gone. He wondered faintly if that was Eris swimming with the fish.

"But Jellal—"

"I don't want to talk about it any more."

She looked dejected in her reflection. Then she squared her shoulders and changed the subject to possibly an even touchier one. "Why were you getting trashed at the roulette table alone, dropping money like it comes free while Miss Erza sat with Julian York? A better place for her would have been on your arm."

Jellal kept facing forward. It was easier to admit, "I suppose because she didn't want to be kissed."

"You kissed her?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?" In the glass' reflection he saw Sienna bite her bottom lip, sympathy flit across her face.

"And she didn't return it?"

That wasn't exactly it. And he was through thinking about it. "Enough."

Sienna didn't take the hint. "I suppose it's useless to tell you to go to her?"

"You saw her; if she wanted to be with me, she'd be here."

Sienna said, "I wouldn't tell you no."

"It's your job not to tell me no. That's what whores do."

"You make it sound so filthy."

He chewed his cheek. Fireflies started burning over Scarlet Lake, lighting the night up even further.

Sienna was used to reticent, self-depreciating men. "You don't have to be without her tonight, if you want her."

Always. He always wanted Erza. "She _walked away_." He said it slowly, like she needed special care in understanding things.

There was a small snap as Sienna dug through her tiny black and white purse. The smell of mint filled the air. Then came the sound of a zipper. Jellal flicked his eyes to Sienna's pale reflection just in time to watch her cha cha dress fall over her shoulders then down past her waist. She wasn't wearing a thing beneath it. A small thrill told him he was human. His body pulsed dully.

"I wanted Erza, not a pretender whore."

"Sometimes when you're not brave, a pretender whore is all you have," she said, unaffected.

His chest ached seeing that rectangle in her hand. "Illusion is a drug made from strife and blood." His words were meant to temper the chasm opening in his chest, but his head just felt dead. Dead drunk, dead crazy. Which way was up and which way was down? _Down where Eris is. Down where Ingin is. Down where Andre is._ And this… it wasn't respite from Erza. It was like carving into his skin with one of her swords, actually, but he was an addict for (blood) her.

"I'm sorry," Sienna said with a smile, "are you a moral man, Jellal?"

 _'Let's not pretend to be better men than what we are.'_

His hands didn't shake unbuttoning his suit, nor his dress shirt. Only when he took the Illusion from Sienna and placed it on his own tongue.

Shame would come later.


	11. Chapter 11

A voice calling his name roused Jellal out of a deep, drug-induced sleep. He became aware of a few things at a time: he was wet, his face was slicked in sweat and his body was too hot. Opening his eyes, he blinked at the windows across the room. The drapes were drawn back, allowing the golden glow of streetlights to trickle through. It was dark.

Lifting his hand, he mopped some of the sweat off his face and took in a deep breath. His head spun. Dehydration, or the aftereffects of Illusion? Both, likely.

His name was said again, whispered close to his ear.

He turned his head to look into eyes that were brown one moment and blue the next. Sienna. Jellal blinked his eyes clear, wanting to outpace last night's raucousness. After a turbulent beat, she consolidated into one girl with not as bright red hair, and true blue eyes. She was kneeling beside the hot tub wearing a low cut navy blue dress, her breasts pushed together and hiked up by a struggling bra. She was wearing makeup, her eyes made to look like a cat's and her hair had been done, washed and straightened; she'd left and come back already.

"Finally." There was a smile on her mouth. She pinched his cheek. "I thought you were going to sleep forever."

Jellal lifted his hand out of the water to massage his throbbing head. His body felt detached from everything else, his head, his senses. "Fuck."

"Illusion does you in, huh?" she asked teasingly. She didn't give him time to answer. "I left you some clothes on the bed."

Jellal gathered his thoughts. "More stolen ones?"

"Nope. I took the liberty of taking your money and going shopping for you, isn't that nice?"

"How much is left?"

She shrugged. "After paying me as well... Ten grand? Give or take?"

He didn't get mad, though he wanted to ask what the fuck she spent twenty thousand on.

"You'll like it," she told him, reading his displeasure. "It's all stuff Madam would approve of."

 _Magnifique_.

Jellal shook his head to clear it of ghosts.

"You should get up and get ready, Jellal, Julian said he wanted to see you before you go out tonight." She squeezed his shoulder then stood. "I'll come back and get you in a bit."

Jellal watched her swaying hips while she exited, his thoughts on Madam Genève and money.

* * *

Waking was a disorienting experience. Erza knew she wasn't in the right bed, nor was she in the right _place_ , just not why. For long seconds she forgot that Fairy Tail was gone, that Fairy Hills and everything inside was obliterated, and all of her friends were scattered across the continent. Staring up at the ceiling she thought firstly that she was still in the Hive, being bartered and sold. Then she realized that the bed she was on was as soft as a cloud, and the ceiling above her head was high, vaulted. _Casino Gomorrah_. Last night came rushing back; Jellal and his kiss. Leaving him behind. Sienna draping herself on him when he had luck at the roulette table, Julian York trying to get in close. All of her unanswered questions and Jellal's evasions. Slaves. Secrets. She couldn't get away from either it seemed.

A knock sounded on the door, breaking her reverie. Erza tipped her head down to stare at the barrier, wondering who exactly would come to see her. Jellal was her first thought.

She pushed back the restrictive and heavy blankets and got to her feet, fixing her purple two-piece pajama set as she walked. Her feet smacked quietly over the floor. At the door she stood on tiptoe and peaked out of the peep hole. A glimmer of red hair caught her eye. Not Jellal, but Sienna. Bitter disappointment washed over her, followed closely by jealousy as she again remembered Jellal grabbing Sienna's hip while she threw her arms around his neck. That memory alone almost encouraged her not to answer. Then she wondered if there was something wrong with Jellal. She pulled back the door just as Sienna was raising her fist to knock again.

"Oh!" Sienna looked startled when the barrier between them disappeared abruptly. She recovered and smiled with a coral coloured mouth. "Good afternoon, Erza!" Her voice was sing-song and girly.

Erza fought to keep the glower from her face. "Is it that late?"

"Yes." She came in without being invited, short navy blue dress sparking with diamonds or some similar stone. In her left hand was a slew of bags, all of them designer, while in her right was a pair of white high heels. "Is Mr. York here?"

"No," Erza said briskly. "Why would he be?"

Sienna shrugged with forced innocence. "Just wondering." She reached out and plucked the material at Erza's waist, a mischievous smile on her face. "Those pj's are super cute."

Erza looked at Sienna's graceful figure in her flattering dress and wished she'd put on something nicer; maybe brushed her hair, washed last night's makeup off her face. You know. _Just stop._ She pushed the girl's hand aside and asked, "What can I help you with?"

Sienna twitched by, unaffected by the coldness in Erza's voice. She went to the bed and dropped the bags she held to its rumpled surface then threw herself down upon the mattress, laying back and stretching out like a comfortable cat, legs crossed, hands over her head.

"Don't you just _love_ these rooms? Casino Gomorrah is marvellous. Natalie says Mr. York has even nicer casinos, though, ones you have to be invited to pay for." She propped herself up on her elbows and looked at Erza. "It's hard to believe, isn't it? I haven't been yet, but Natalie says she's going to get me in."

"Did you come here to talk about casinos?" Erza asked, not nearly as impressed.

Sienna smiled. "Not at all. I came here to drop off some dresses, Erza, that our sweet Jellal bought for you."

 _Dresses_? "Jellal bought them?"

"Yep." She picked up a lock of hair and twirled it. "With last night's winnings. Sweet of him, right?"

"Why would he do that?" Erza demanded, unsure of how to feel. No one bought her stuff ever.

"Because he thinks you're a beautiful girl and wants to see you in beautiful things?" Sienna asked.

The look Erza gave her was incredulous.

"Okay, okay. The dresses were my idea, but they were bought with Jellal's winnings." Erza was startled by the tinge of disappointment she felt; like she ever needed a man to buy her anything. Sienna continued, "You should go see him before he leaves. Maybe give him a little thank you kiss?"

"He's leaving?" Erza asked sharply.

Sienna's smile dimmed. "He'll be back, but yes, he's going out tonight."

"To where?"

"I can't say."

"Can't, or won't?" Erza prodded.

"In this case, they're one in the same," Sienna replied.

She left the bags laying on the bed and stood, first going to the still open door and closing it, then coming to Erza and standing closer than the re-quip mage was really comfortable with. Erza didn't move, entirely too stubborn for that, though she was close enough to feel Sienna's breath kiss her lips. They were near enough in height that Erza didn't have to look up or bend to see into the girl's eyes. They were bluer than crystal and gold-flecked and clear.

Sienna asked, "Will you do something for me, Erza?"

"What?" she asked warily.

"I want you to try to make Jellal understand that what Mr. York asked him to do is dangerous. I don't know if he gets it. He wants her dead so badly."

Erza's stomach tried to twist in knots. "Jellal is a capable mage, one of the best. There aren't very many people that can challenge him."

"I've no doubt that Jellal is a dangerous man, but I think you already know Innisfil makes him different. I'm worried that he won't be thinking straight. He needs someone steadfast, someone who knows him and cares, someone who will be strong enough to steady him when he trips. Someone he respects and will listen to when he tries to forget who he is. I think you're that girl, Erza. And if you're not, he needs you to become her."

Erza's mouth moved without her permission. "If Jellal wanted that of me he wouldn't have spent the night with you."

Sienna touched Erza's cheek then slipped her hair back behind her ear; Erza stilled. No one ever dared to touch her like that, so gently, casually.

Sienna looked into her eyes. "You should never be jealous of a paid girl. They're never the ones the men are thinking of."

"Now you know what men think?" Erza asked, turning Sienna's words around on her.

"I know what most people think, Erza, lovely, even before they think it themselves. It's my job."

Even if she was right, which she wasn't convinced of, Erza couldn't control her miserable expression.

Sienna looked back sympathetically. "Tell me what bothers you so: the fact that you don't know exactly what we did, or the fact that you're jealous you weren't doing it yourself?"

Erza's ears burned. "None of those things."

"Then maybe…" Sienna got a wicked glint to her eye that Erza didn't _much_ care for. "You're miffed that you didn't take me up on my offer last night. It's not too late." Her tongue darted out and flicked over Erza's bottom lip. Erza startled—when the _hell_ had Sienna gotten so close? Before she could back away, or voice a protest, or do _anything at all_ , Sienna's lips were laying against hers in a wet, yet closed-mouth kiss. Erza could taste a mixture of lipstick and blueberry lip gloss, could feel Sienna's breasts, her smooth face. It was strange, kissing a girl. They were softer, more pliable.

 _What the hell are you doing?_ She gathered her wits and staggered back drunkenly. There was a wall at her back, bless it, that kept her from falling. Panting, she wiped her mouth clean and glared at Sienna.

"You can't—I didn't want—" Erza's lips burned, but not as much as her face. Her thoughts whirled, clouded and incoherent. She didn't know what to say or what to do, how she should feel about that. "You can't just kiss me."

"Seems like Jellal isn't the only one you turn down." Sienna winked.

Erza sputtered. "He told you about that?"

The girl's mischievous expression softened. "He was upset. I think you should stop playing coy; both of us know that you liked it."

Erza couldn't tell _which_ kiss Sienna thought she liked and she didn't want to ask, either.

Turning on her heel, Sienna went to the bed and unzipped one of the clothing bags. A piece of white cloth was inside. She pulled it out and held it up to Erza like nothing had transpired. "I think you should wear this tonight." The dress had a high necked collar of thin lace that stretched all the way down to the breasts. Those at least were covered by real material so you couldn't see _everything_. The waist was fitted and the skirt was shorter than most of the things Erza wore.

"Take it," Sienna said, seeing Erza's hesitation. "Put it on."

"I have—"

"I told you last night, Gomorrah has a strict dress code. This passed Julian's approval. Just wear it, Erza." When she made no move, Sienna came to her. "I'll help you," she said and shamelessly started unbuttoning her pajamas. Erza was absolutely paralyzed for three whole seconds, long enough that the tops of her breasts became exposed, then she remembered to _move._ She pushed Sienna's hands away and took the dress for herself, face still flaming, heart still beating too hard from the last time they were so close.

Sienna's good nature dropped away, replaced by concern. "I'm sorry about the kiss, Erza. I won't do it again; not until you ask."

She was good at cutting to the heart of the problem, Erza would give her that. "I won't," she managed.

Without another word, Erza went to the large marbled bathroom and closed herself inside. The restricted confines of the room helped calm her mind, helped her sort out some of her thoughts. What she realized when the majority of the cobwebs were cleared aside chilled her to her bones.

She kind of did like the kiss.

* * *

Erza took special care in the washroom, showering for an extended amount of time, then meticulously drying her hair with a towel. The red locks curled around her shoulders in soft ringlets, not yet brushed straight. She kind of liked it so she left it as it was. Then she dressed, pulling the white fabric Sienna gave her down around her body. It fit snugly. She adjusted her breasts, adjusted the material around her hips, then adjusted her hair around her shoulders. The colours looked startling together: red and white, white and red. She liked it. Distantly, she wondered if Jellal would as well.

 _Jellal._ And his kiss.

She shook her head to clear it.

Unable to procrastinate any longer, she opened the door and stepped out, hoping once again that Sienna had gone somewhere. She hadn't. She was back on the bed, legs crossed again, a pair of whiter-than-cloud, tall strappy high heels in her hand. The mischievous and sultry look was back in her eye when she looked at Erza. Erza resisted wrapping her arms around her body. It was just ridiculous.

"You look very nice in that dress," Sienna told her. She stood and held out the heels. "Here you go. Put them on, then we'll go see Jellal before he decides that it's time to leave."

Erza looked over Sienna's shoulder and saw that beyond the white drapes the world was dark already. It was hard to believe. Without a word she took the shoes and stuffed them on her feet. They fit perfectly, though they were a far cry from comfortable like her own soft leather boots. She didn't allow herself to question why she was doing this; she didn't think she'd much like the answer.

"Almost perfect." Sienna opened her bag and brought out a tube of lipstick that was such a dark red that it almost looked black. She took off the lid and swiped it over Erza's lips expertly. Erza felt rooted in place, knowing that the girl was too close again and thinking that she _should_ push her away. Her body was traitorous. She did nothing, morbidly curious to see what exactly it was that was so fascinating about her.

She still didn't have an answer when Sienna finished. The girl put the lipstick away, then pinched some colour into Erza's cheeks. "There you go. You look beautiful. Come on." Her hand slipped down into Erza's, then she led her out of the room. Erza grabbed her key card along the way.

"I'll take it in my purse," Sienna said when she saw Erza had nowhere to put it.

"Fine," Erza replied and handed it off.

Sienna went left down the hall to the elevators. They only had to wait a moment for them to arrive. In that time, Erza had enough of an opportunity to think about the girl holding her hand. She unlaced their fingers then folded her arms across her chest, thinking that was safe. If Sienna was put off by it, she didn't show it.

They stepped in, the elevator closed, and Sienna hit the fourteenth floor button. They started moving at breakneck speed. In seconds the doors were opening again. "This way." Sienna led her out and down a white hall to room seven-oh-three. There, standing in front of the closed door, Erza realized how nervous she was to see Jellal again. What would she say after she kissed him then ditched? Suddenly this didn't seem like a good idea.

"Sienna, I think I'm actually just going to go—I don't think—"

"Nonsense." She knocked briskly on the door.

There was no answer. Disappointment hit Erza fast and hard. "He's gone already."

Sienna waited another moment then reached into her bag once more and pulled out a real key. Into the lock it went. Before Erza could form another word—like maybe question why Sienna had a room key—the door opened, revealing the mostly dark interior. The overhead lights were on, but they were so dimmed that everything was shadowed. Erza found Jellal well enough, though, even in all the gloom as he stepped out of a door down the hall, naked from the waist up, a pair of dark grey slacks slung low on his hips. He faltered seeing her, then seemed to compose himself. His hair was damp and tousled and there was shaving cream along his jaw. Erza's stomach flopped. Her mouth remembered his.

"Erza—" Jellal said. She was stark in her white shoes, with her pale legs, white dress, red hair, and dark, dark lips. Jellal's first thought was that he was still high and he was imagining her there, but she looked uneasy enough that he knew that wasn't right. This was the real Erza Scarlet, the one that he'd kissed, the one that had taken off with Julian York. Sienna stepped out behind her and he knew for certain. His eyes flicked between the two. "What are you doing here?" As soon as he asked, hurt flitted behind Erza's eyes. He wanted to take the words back but didn't.

"Manners, Jellal," Sienna scolded. "She came to see you, obviously, to say thank you for the nice dress you bought her."

He gave her a look that had made plenty of people wither; not Sienna.

"Wear the plum coloured dress shirt tonight, and the grey tie. No jacket. It'll look good on you. I'll be back in a little bit, you two have fun!" Sienna wiggled her fingers then turned, dress twirling around her thighs. The door snapped closed.

Silence ruled.

Jellal cleared his throat, so aware of Erza's presence. Things had never felt more strained. "Erza." He said her name again like it was the only thing he knew how to do. His voice sounded gravelly, raw. "You—you don't have to be here."

Erza picked at her elbows nervously. She kept catching herself wanting to look at his body. "I wanted to talk."

Jellal turned and made for the washroom again just for something to do. It also made addressing her easier. "You don't have to say anything. I apologize for last night."

Erza followed him through the hotel room and tried not to think about how rumpled the bed was, how damp the floor was around the hot tub, how scattered last night's clothes were: beside the bed, on the sill of the window, all over the floor. Shirts and socks and a tie, pants. Inside the bathroom she leaned with forced casualness against the doorframe and watched as he cranked on the taps and splashed water over his face, washing away the shaving cream.

"I didn't come for an apology."

Jellal looked up and met her eyes through the mirror. "Very well."

"Sienna says what you're doing tonight is dangerous."

"Every job I do is dangerous," Jellal replied. "I only ever deal with the dregs, Erza, you know that."

Of course she did. "She was worried."

"Are you?" Erza was the only girl whose opinion mattered.

She thought of the blood she found on his sleeve last night, of the coldness that lingered in his eyes always. After a moment she said, "No." Jellal had haunted her dreams plenty, both as a monster and as a man she could love. She could think of no one that scared her more. Anyone that crossed his path would know a formidable foe.

She swallowed and said, "I just… I wanted to make sure."

"I'm fine," he said with conviction. Just as long as he didn't remember too closely his time in the pleasure house.

"Good." It got quiet again. Erza opened her mouth to fill the silence and was surprised by what came out. "She stayed last night? Sienna?" Even though she knew the answer, she wanted Jellal to say it. Who knew why? Maybe she was hoping he'd give her a different answer, even if she knew it was a lie.

He shot a look her way. "She was here."

 _Right_. She rubbed her hands over her dress and changed the subject again. "Where is your job taking you tonight?"

He sighed like he didn't really want to talk about it, but answered anyway. "That woman I'm after, Madam Genève, owns a pleasure house called the Vault. If all goes well I'm going to find it, and try to find a way to get inside."

Words from her first night in Innisfil came back to her. ' _Madam Genève would enjoy her hair quite a bit, if I were inclined to share.'_

"I know her name," Erza said. "When I first came here, one of the men I was with said she would... She would enjoy my hair."

Jellal looked over his shoulder, taking in Erza's curling locks. "She is a collector of beauty, yes." When he was free of the Vault he'd considered shaving his head, but the slavers at the Tower of Heaven never let them have anything sharp, and afterwards... His pride was a breathing thing. He wouldn't give Madam that power over him. Besides, it was always his smile that she preferred, and to cut that out...

"You're going to pose as a customer?" Erza asked.

Jellal flinched; Erza didn't notice; she was too wrapped up in the idea of him going to someone else again. Some other girl with some other ridiculous body that ' _came upon her money honestly.'_

"Something like that." He grabbed a towel off the wrought iron rack and dried his face. Finished, he threw it sloppily onto the counter then tried to slide past Erza and escape. She blocked his way.

"How long will you be?"

"I can't say," he replied truthfully. "It's unlikely Madam will see me tonight." No... He was expecting to have to build up her trust. _How_ was going to be the interesting bit. He attempted to move past Erza again to get away from his thoughts.

' _Stop being coy.'_ "Wait." Erza pressed her palms against his bare chest, keeping him in place.

Jellal stilled, caught by the intense look in her eye and the feeling of skin on skin. "What is it?"

She reached for him, fingers closing around his wrist. He was warm. Her heart did strange, paralyzing things. She didn't know if she was brave enough to step in close to him.

But she did. "I don't want to think about you kissing other women."

The look he gave her was deadpan. "You don't want me to kiss other women but when I try to kiss you, you pull away." _Might as well be blunt_ , he thought. And why not? There were almost no secrets between them.

Erza gnawed on her lip; maybe she deserved that. "I want to try again."

"Erza…" Her name coming off his tongue dripped with frustration.

 _I don't want to know what he says next._ More nervous than ever before, Erza took that extra little step that brought their bodies together. Through his chest she could feel his lungs rise and fall, rise and fall, she could feel his heart, _drum, drum, drum,_ she could feel his skin, warmer than it should be, damp with sweat even after he'd showered. Looking up through her lashes she met his eyes. He stood perfectly still, looking torn while he waited for her to do something. Erza let her hand wander up his arm to the swell of his bicep. His skin felt good, smooth and soft while underneath was hard, unyielding muscle. At his shoulder she squeezed and tugged him down. He came choppily, acting like she was the first girl he'd ever kissed, hand finding her waist and resting lightly. He stopped there, neither pulling her in nor pushing her away, so Erza stood on tiptoe and pressed her mouth to his.

It was a chaste kiss, a prolonged brush of the lips. It was only when Erza tried to move away that Jellal came alive. He came back for her; his tongue teased her bottom lip. Erza's response was immediate and impassioned. Looping her arms around his throat she dragged him near because even though they were body-to-body she couldn't get close enough.

She kissed him until she was dizzy, until he was pressed hard against her, until there was a wall at her back. She didn't feel trapped until his fingers touched beneath the hem of her skirt and dug into her thigh. Overwhelmed, she turned her head to the side, breaking the kiss, and panted. Undeterred, Jellal's mouth landed on her chin, her neck, her earlobe.

"W—wait," Erza gasped.

There was a moment when she thought he'd just continue, then the kisses tempered. When he tried to stop entirely Erza discovered that despite her protests she wasn't quite ready for that to happen. She threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him to her neck. He started kissing her throat again. Her skin danced with goose bumps. Her eyes closed. "You don't have to go to anyone else."

Jellal stopped, his mouth a millimetre from her skin. "Erza, I—still have to do this job. I have to go to the Vault, and I have to be believable." Otherwise the only thing he was going to be was dead.

"There will be others is what you're saying," the redhead said quietly. She felt his skin under her palm and thought maybe she didn't care as much as she should.

When he answered it sounded unapologetic. "I'll do whatever is necessary to bring Madam Genève down."

Erza leaned back to look at him. Her mouth came open to say something—she had no idea if it was a scathing remark or a pitying one, when Jellal said abruptly, "Stay here tonight."

"Here?"

"Yes."

"In your room?"

He went back to the crux of her neck and sucked softly, not enough to leave a mark, but enough to make Erza wish he would. "Yes."

"But your job—"

"I'll come back for you."

"Jellal—"

"Give me a reason to make sure I find my way back here," he begged. He didn't want to get lost in this. Though he hoped Madam Genève would see him this evening, he wasn't a total fool. She was careful always and would be now that she'd crossed paths with Julian York. Jellal had to make sure he was his best, most alert self. Knowing that he was coming back to Erza would ensure that. Or at least that was the plan.

"Yes." Erza wished she'd hesitated.

Jellal smiled against her skin; it was one full of malcontent that stemmed from not wanting to let her go. If he didn't think she'd scare, he'd kiss her until their lips hurt, he'd take off her beautiful lace dress and see her beautiful pearl skin, he'd thread her blood red hair through his bloody hands and—

"Jellal." Erza stooped and pinched his cheeks between her hands, effectively smothering the low whine building in his chest. He startled and looked at her like a frightened animal, or maybe a man caught thinking about something that truly terrified him. Erza was going to ask what was wrong, but found the words got stuck. Anything that scared Jellal Fernandez was likely to scare her, too.

"I need to get ready," Jellal squeezed through a windpipe that felt smaller than a pin. He didn't kiss her again, heart still going painfully fast from his weird Tower of Heaven episode, but he did tuck a lock of bright hair behind her ear. Her lipstick was slightly smeared. He fixed that as well; his hand shook. Neither of them mentioned it. Then he stood straight and grabbed her wrists, taking her hands from his face. As soon as he wasn't flush with her body it was easier to move. He turned away and exited the washroom.

They weren't alone. Sienna sat on the bed, copper hair gathered over her left shoulder while she preened the ends.

"All made up?"

Jellal didn't respond to her question.

She looked around his body and saw Erza slinking out of the washroom red cheeked. "I'll take that as a yes." She stood. "You have some lipstick, Jellal, sweetie." She came to him, wiping his mouth much like he had done to Erza. She was done before he could move away. "Perfect. Mr. York wants to see you before you go." She turned and picked up the plum coloured shirt she'd spoken of earlier and held it out for him. Jellal took it from her and donned it over his hot skin. The girl picked up a tie next and handed it to Erza. "Fix him up?"

Erza took the tie and wrapped it around his throat mostly because she didn't want Sienna doing it, and dredged from her memory the knot used to make it sit right.

Jellal was stationary and patient throughout the whole process, enjoying her closeness and Sienna watching them, however perverse that was. He didn't overanalyze it.

"Perfect," Sienna said when Erza was through. She made only one adjustment, tightening the tie a little more than Jellal ever would, then said, "Give her a kiss, Jellal, and we can go."

Erza didn't know if she should be pleased or not when Jellal actually leaned down and sewed their lips together. It was short but intense. Afterwards Erza's legs shook and her breath came raggedly

Sienna beamed. "Let's go." She led the way to the door; Jellal followed, Erza came after him. In the hallway Sienna looped her arm through Jellal's. Erza did the same, only because she wouldn't be outdone. Sienna's smile only widened. Erza lifted her head high and ignored her.

* * *

A lot of eyes were drawn their way on the main floor of the casino. The lingering gazes mostly belonged to older men who enviously appraised both redheads on Jellal's arms. Burdened by their jealous stares, Jellal felt untouchable, like the lies he and Sienna had weaved were more true than not. Then he reminded himself that no matter how much fun it was, he was only playing pretend.

"This way." Sienna guided them past the lucky roulette table—Jellal was almost tempted to stop and ask Erza to kiss one of his chips—and out onto the gaslight-lit patio. Mellow jazz music played softly from several speakers. A few guests sat at the tables near the casino but the deck was only half full. Near the back amongst all of the empty tables was a couple that caught Jellal's eye.

Julian York was easy enough to identify, dressed a step above everyone else in a forest green tweed suit, his dark hair slicked back, his beard neatly trimmed. He ate an expensive looking steak dinner while the brunette Sienna had been hanging off the other day leaned into him and ran her fingers through his hair. She whispered something into his ear, and judging by the sultry smile on her pink lips it was something steamy. Her hand rolled down the front of his jacket, hunting for the space between his legs, Jellal had no doubt. She stopped just at his belt when she caught sight of their approach. As soon as she saw Sienna her darkly lined hazel eyes lit up.

"Hello, beautiful."

Sienna slipped away from Jellal and went to her, first kissing Julian on the corner of the mouth, then catching the girl's lips in a hot kiss. Though Erza looked away after a stunned moment, Jellal watched until Sienna cupped a handful of her breast and Julian said, "Ladies, this is still a restaurant. Wait a few and you can take that to my room."

Sienna straightened, cheeks fevered. "I can't tonight, Mr. York, I'm spending time with Miss Scarlet, remember?"

Julian looked at Erza. "She can come, too, should she like."

Jellal's chest got cold. Neither he nor Erza got the chance to say anything, though, because the brunette said, "You said we'd spend some time together, Julian."

"We will be, Natalie."

"Alone," she clarified. "You promised. You've been so busy lately, I've missed you."

Julian softened in a way Jellal had yet to see. "You're right. I did promise." He pushed his mostly finished plate away and stood. "I need to see to something downstairs quickly, then we can get together." He faced Jellal. "Unless she's moved on to bigger and better things, you can find Madam Genève at four-thirty-nine Nightshade Drive." He came near and wrapped his arm around Jellal's shoulder like they were close friends. "I would tell you to arm yourself, but if she checks you—and I'm sure she will—and sees you have a gun... Well, I think our agreement would be cut short, don't you?"

Jellal kept his eyes away from Erza, even though she studied him so hard he felt like he was burning up. "I don't need a gun."

"Yes, of course, you like a personal touch. If she does decide to take you in but doesn't give you the opportunity to dispatch her tonight, do try to find a way back here, Mr. Fernandez. I'd like to know as much as I can about this operation she's built up."

Jellal nodded. "I don't plan on being her pet." Not anymore.

"Good. You can come in through the back so no one will see you and recognize you. Do make sure you aren't followed. If something goes awry I will try to send someone to retrieve you, but I will make no promises. We have to do things carefully now you understand? Most importantly, don't rush—rushing people make mistakes."

Erza listened to the whole exchange, questions building. "I want to come with you," she heard herself say.

Jellal squeezed her arm still trapped in his. "You can't." And not just because he was afraid of her belonging to the Vault if things didn't go right, but because he wanted to keep her separate from that part of his past. Pride made him foolhardy, he knew... It changed nothing, though.

"Why not?"

When Jellal tripped up, Julian plucked a piece of red hair up off her shoulder and answered. "With hair like this she'll want to add you to her collection, Miss Scarlet."

Erza brushed his hand away impatiently. "She could try."

Julian chuckled. "Your confidence is admirable, and I'm sure well founded. However, Madam Genève does well enough with weapons all on her own, we don't need to let her have you as leverage against Jellal, do we?"

Erza crossed her arms over her chest, about to argue more.

"It's fine, Erza. I want to do this on my own," Jellal interjected.

Erza searched his eyes. ' _What are you afraid of?'_

 _'Everything.'_

It was Madam Genève that was the devil on Jellal Fernandez's back, not the town of Innisfil, as he said. The realization was chilling.

"I'll come for you if you don't come back by sunrise," she promised.

Jellal nodded.

"Well," Julian said, "I suppose that saves me from sending my own people, doesn't it?" He dug through his pocket and pulled out a jet black key and handed it to Jellal. "For the back door," he explained.

Jellal took it and stuffed it deep into his pocket.

"How are the lacrima coming along?" Julian tagged on.

"Well," he lied. "I've started on the first."

"Excellent. I look forward to the final result; don't let Madam Genève get the best of you. I'd hate to have to find another mage to do the work for me."

Thunder rumbled in the distance as clouds gathered over the far end of Scarlet Lake. From where Jellal stood looking out over the water he saw that there was a small fire burning off one of the north docks, the flame bright in the night. More bodies.

"It'll be fine." He wouldn't think about being a boy sitting in Madam's lap. He wouldn't think about her teaching sessions. He wouldn't think about his best customers. To do that was to be paralyzed.

He squeezed Erza's arm once more to assure himself that he'd left that Jellal behind. When he felt steady he tried to pull away. She stopped him.

"Be careful."

The monster would keep him safe. Bending, Jellal kissed the corner of her mouth, shamelessly taking special care to make sure Julian saw. Erza wasn't his, not really, but he didn't want her to be anyone else's either.

* * *

Hey! Yes, I'm alive. Sorry for the late update!


	12. Chapter 12

Erza watched Jellal take the steps off the patio two at a time. For a good ten seconds there was only silence while he retreated. The lights around Gomorrah hugged him ten feet out, twenty, then the cedar shrubs reached up and blocked him from view, taking him into the darkness towards Scarlet Lake.

Fingers closed around her wrist. "I'm sure he'll be fine, Erza."

Erza turned and faced Julian. Carefully she extracted her wrist from his grip. "I'm not worried." _Liar,_ her mind rebelled. She stamped out that traitorous little voice. What the hell did it know, anyway?

"Do you want a drink to calm your nerves?" Julian offered.

Erza nearly said no. Then she felt how her hands shook. Clutching them viciously in front of her belly button didn't help any. "Yes." One drink wasn't going to hurt anyone.

He held up his hand and a girl, wearing a short black cocktail dress smattered with rhinestones, bustled over holding a bottle of wine. Erza didn't even know she was hiding in the shadows.

"Kyla, pour some wine for the beautiful Miss Scarlet," Julian ordered.

Kyla happily obliged, topping up one of the fresh glasses on the table with a wine so dark it looked like congealed blood. The comparison left Erza feeling haunted, but she refused to balk over a glass of wine. She picked it up and tasted the sweet, dry liquid.

"It's good," she said when she'd swallowed because it looked like Julian wanted to hear her say it.

"Excellent. Have as much as you'd like, on the house." Julian straightened his still perfect tie. "I better get downstairs, I just have to speak with Morgan for a bit, Natalie, my love. I won't be long, I promise." He dipped and kissed her thoroughly. "Have fun with the girls." He kissed Sienna next. "Make sure she gets into trouble, Sienna. I like it when she's been bad."

"Absolutely, Mr. York, trouble is what I'm good at," Sienna said with a wink.

Erza half expected similar treatment and was relieved when he only bowed his head to her before he headed back inside.

"Well," Natalie said. "I'm eager for this trouble. Another drink here, Kyla."

* * *

Dress shoes weren't made for walking, but Jellal had years and years of practice in such when he was young, so when his toes started to pinch he made sure to step down first with his heel, and when that stopped working he blocked out the part of his brain that registered the discomfort. Mostly.

Beyond the boulevard that was home to Casino Gomorrah, Innisfil was a shamble town playing at being rich. In parts all of the dumpy houses had been bought up, torn down, and rebuilt as mansions, while other parts still remained dystopian.

The segment where Silver River ran through town was of the former variety. Rich houses lined the banks on either side, their homes set aglow by the small, night-blooming plant that gave Silver River its name. Silver leaves and silver stems and silver edged red petals.

As he came over the wooden plank bridge he paused to look at Silver River bleeding into Scarlet Lake. The lake water turned everything red. _It's the blood._ Though he knew it wasn't _really_ , it was still a chilling thought. A beautiful thought. All the blood and all the secrets. All of the whispers that had been passed back and forth on the shores. All of the things buried in the soft sediment in the deep lake. The girls and the boys.

 _It will keep every secret._

Just when Jellal thought he was spiraling out of control, a dark figure near the river's edge caught his eye. A man picking Silver River's Silver Dragon flowers. He wore gloves and a dark riding cap and held a large bag that he stuffed the harvested flowers into.

"Those are poisonous."

The man lifted his gaze and found Jellal. "I'm not interested in your services tonight, Sir. Tell Madam Genève no insult is intended."

 _He thinks you're a whore._ Jellal felt himself wanting to recoil. He smoothed his features. "Did you hear me? Those flowers you pick, they're poisonous. If you want a gift for your sweetheart, choose something less deadly." He remembered Madam being expressly clear to her children and the newcomers to the Vault to, _'never touch zees flowers.'_ Jellal didn't believe her until one night he was working with another boy who was supposed to be supplementing his learning. Madam couldn't be seen out working the streets with her whores, of course, even if it was to teach lessons.

The customer they'd had that night had been particularly unkind. At the end of the night walking back, the boy had been quiet right up to the minute he waltzed right to the river's edge, snapped off one of the Silver Dragon's delicate flower heads, and popped it into his mouth. Though he'd promptly vomited it all back up the damage was done, the poison in his system. He'd fallen to the ground and seized until his heart stopped.

 _And then you grabbed him by the arm, dragged him through his sick, and dropped him into the river so it could take him to Scarlet Lake._ Madam hadn't been happy; not because Jellal had disposed of the boy in such a manner, but because he _had_ to dispose of him at all.

"Thank you for your concern," the man said, drawing Jellal out of the past. "But I will take my chances."

Jellal shook his head and moved on, deciding if stupid wanted to die, then stupid should be allowed to.

His feet took him onto a glitzy street. Like Gomorrah's Aurum Avenue, everyone on Hemlock Street was doing well. It was odd to have two such fantastically rich areas when everything around it was falling to shambles. The streets here were without cracks, the wraparound porches with their lily and rose gardens belonged to mansions, lawns were green without a single scrap of garbage sullying its good image.

 _I don't belong._ That's what he told himself anyway when a flood of memories attempted to swallow him. Memories that said that even though he'd hated most of his time in the Vault, part of him missed the familiarity, the lack of having to _think_. Memories that said it was easier to be someone else's than his own. To wash these thoughts away he remembered some of the unsettling things he'd been asked to do. Making people bleed and cry and worse while he pleasured them.

 _I can't. I can't._ He almost turned around and ran back to Gomorrah. He could grab Erza and they could leave Innisfil for good. His conscience would be silent if Erza was there soothing it.

 _No, no, no._ Madam had to be stopped. People were dying, people were suffering.

 _Four-thirty-nine Nightshade Drive. Four-thirty-nine Nightshade Drive_. It sounded like a mantra in his head. _Four-thirty-nine Nightshade Drive_. He'd never been more nervous.

Hemlock Street T'd at Nightshade Drive. Jellal went left, watching the numbers climb. Four-twenty-three, four-twenty-five. He walked faster, afraid of stopping. Four-twenty-nine.

Four-thirty-five. Four-thirty-seven.

While all of the houses on this street were exquisite, the one belonging to the Vault was the most audacious of all. Flanked by seven burly bur oaks on either side, the walkway was made of blood red and onyx stones. Kissing its boarders were shrubs whose leaves glowed dull white in the moonlight. They offered just enough light that no other source was needed. In between the trees were thorny rose bushes that smelled so sweet it was nearly overwhelming, and beneath those, spread out like a warming blanket, was a mat of forget-me-nots, the blues of their petals so deep it was like the colour of his own hair. A shiver spider walked down Jellal's spine.

 _I can do this._

His legs were shaking. _I am the leader of Crime Sorciere. I destroyed the Magic Council. I survived prison. I survived Master Zero. I survived the Tower of Heaven and I survived the_ _Vault already. I was a monster before I was a man. The biggest beast to roam Innisfil's streets is_ not _Madam Genève, but me._

He lifted his eyes away from the flowers and focused on the house. _Mansion,_ he corrected. It was made of river stone with imbedded mica and amethyst and rose quartz to make it gleam, while the door was lapis lazuli and black glass.

It was as beautiful as it was cold, just like Madam.

At the door he didn't bother knocking, just grabbed the brass handle, depressed it and pushed it open. The going was slow, but it was _going_. His heart felt like it was going to explode while that door swung on silent hinges. His breathing had certainly stopped.

Warm light brushed over his shining shoes, then over his whole body. There was a chandelier, a mosaic of people embracing on the floor, and roses on every surface. Leather couches, tables with treats for guests that deign to wait, and women and men _everywhere_. Some in business suits, some in next to nothing, some with tattoos identical to Jellal's, some without. Those were the customers.

In the time it took the door to close nearly everyone stopped moving. Though not in actuality, it _felt_ like every eye turned to him. Jellal's heart tried to stop again. _Keep going._

A woman wearing a sheer blue Abayah and Madam's tattoo detached herself from a tall man and sauntered over. Through her clothing Jellal could see she wore _nothing_ beneath. She was beautiful in a way that was breathtaking. Her black almond shaped eyes were lined with kohl that looked stark against her clear ebony skin, and if her hair was exposed Jellal was sure it would be blacker than midnight. She was exotic, which was exactly why she belonged to Madam.

"Good evening, Sir. You find your way here wearing the mark of my kin and yet I do not know your face." Her accent brought him across the great sea and deposited him somewhere warm and strange, somewhere with man-eaters and beautiful colours and danger on every vine.

Madam had stepped up her game.

"I've come to see Madam Genève." He was relieved when his voice didn't shake.

She inclined her head. "Come."

Jellal could hardly take a step onto that tile floor. Talk inside the foyer continued, eyes that pretended not to look followed his every step. Though he felt disoriented he did his best to keep up with the woman before him. She was barefooted and gentle-stepped. He watched her body as they walked; focusing on something else, even something as menial as that, helped get his mind away from his exploding heart.

 _I can do this._

The woman pressed open a pair of gold-leaf French style doors. Beyond was a room with a black light, a tall backed leather chair, two gothic-style stands crowned with a bouquet of black roses each.

"Sit, Sir." The woman turned and grabbed Jellal by the shoulders, guiding him into the chair. He didn't shrug off her cold grip, though he was close to, feeling manacled. She said, "I am called Haya. Tell me your name."

He wasn't listening anymore, though, he was stuck. Madam Genève had a room very similar to this in the old Vault as well. He'd only worked it once before the slavers from the Tower came to take him away. It was a pleasure room like any of the others, though this was for customers that wanted to be domineered. He knew if he prodded the chair enough he'd find ropes and gags and other toys hidden within compartments sewn into its spacious frame.

The woman bent so they were eye to eye. "Your name, Sir, so I may know what to call you when Madam asks who has sought her."

 _I can't._ His mouth thought differently. "Jellal Fernandez."

She hardly flinched. "Madam used to speak of a Jellal. One with a _magnifique_ smile, though he was taken away. So infrequently have I met a ghost."

He'd been called many things throughout his life. Ghost was not new, though when it was spoken with this girl's tongue in her oddly lilting voice, he felt his body get cold. "I am no ghost." _She'll kill you. She'll keep you and kill you and you'll belong to her forever._

"Yet you have the look of a ghost." She touched his brow. "Scared like one who knows something is different but does not yet know he's dead."

He pushed her words aside. "Just get her."

"Tell me your purpose here."

His lungs squeezed. "I—I want to come home. Tell her."

Her full mouth pulled into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I will see if she'll entertain you." She straightened and exited through a door on the opposite side of the room Jellal had missed. That wasn't like him; he'd usually scope out the room, made sure he knew where to look for a coming assault. _Sloppy._ He stood from the chair and did a circuit. There was a small vent down low that brought to him the voices of those in the foyer. A girl was giggling as a man spoke lowly to her. They must have been right by the opposite vent because Jellal heard everything clearly. He straightened and kept up his prowl. Inside the stands holding the flowers he found a pair of leather gloves and a short whip. Along with a small container. When he opened it he found it stuffed full of Illusion. His fingers itched, his chest ached.

 _Put it down._

He did.

When he still thought about the euphoria it offered he closed the door and turned his back on it.

The door Haya had disappeared into opened again as the woman came back through. She wasn't alone, there was a large burly man with her. His dark skin was nearly a perfect match for the midnight coloured room, making him all the more menacing when his voice slipped through the darkness.

"Leave this place."

"I need to speak with Madam Genève," Jellal said stubbornly.

"She won't see you."

"Tell her I—"

"She has heard your lies. Leave this place, Mr. Fernandez, and tell your employer his dirty tactics will not work on a woman of Madam's cunning."

Jellal's palms tingled. "I have no employer."

The man stepped forward; his eyes burned like black coals. "There is a man in Madam's service that will do far worse to you than I ever could. If you would enjoy spending the remainder of your life caring for yourself and not being a snivelling waste begging nurses to wipe your ass when you can no longer because your mind is _too far bent_ , leave."

"I just need to see—"

The man was faster than Jellal gave him credit for, and larger, and stronger, too. Cold-cocked in the side of the head, his vision doubled, tripled, then blackened. The last things he heard was Haya whimpering softly, scared, and the man saying, "Don't fear, Haya. I will leave him alive so Julian York may know both Madam's power and her mercy."

* * *

It was Erza's turn to be in the middle. Natalie and Sienna took up residence on either side, both of them looping arms with her as they dragged her to a room with a huge bar and an even bigger stage. There was a girl up there now, one with short black hair and a wide red mouth. When she sang her voice sent chills over Erza's spine. At the woman's side were dancers in glittering silver dresses. Julian's offer came to her again and made her flush both with pleasure, because the thought of being in the limelight brought her great joy, and trepidation, because her stage fright was a palpable and embarrassing thing.

"You like those girls, sweetie?" the brunette asked when she caught Erza staring.

Erza shook herself. "They dance beautifully."

"Yes, they definitely do. I heard my love offered you a job doing the same."

Erza scanned the bar, fighting to look blasé. "I'm not interested."

"Oh?" Natalie's cat-like eyes flashed. "I know the look of disinterest, and that certainly isn't it."

Erza flushed. "I don't dance." Not well, anyway.

Natalie leaned around Erza's front. "Sienna could teach you, couldn't you, pet?"

"I would be happy to. I think she'd do better in the Gentleman's Club, though, don't you?"

Erza's ears roared. She couldn't tell if Sienna was kidding or not.

"I could teach you how to strip and you could practice on your man." She winked. "Wouldn't that be fun?"

Natalie beamed. "This is why I love you."

"I'm _not_ dancing. I'm _not_ stripping and I'm _not_ practicing on Jellal," Erza asserted.

"That's what you say now," Sienna said in a singsong voice. "I give you a week."

Erza was preparing something scathing when an older man in a white suit appeared, a smile on his face. "Sara."

 _Sara_ , Erza wondered.

Sienna's carefree expression withered. "Mr. Krane. You're not allowed in Gomorrah any longer."

"That was before. I had some luck at the Vault and found my way back into my fortune," Mr. Krane said.

"I see," Sienna replied. "It must have been a very big fortune indeed if you still have money left after paying a healer to fix you up."

His scowl darkened. "I have a special treat for that blue haired whore when I find him. In the mean time…" He dug through his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash that he shamelessly stuffed into the cup of Sienna's bra. "For the lot of you." He pointed at all three. "You're going to make the other night up to me, Sara. You're going to play at your best self, and if I find you're dissatisfying, I'm going to make sure to tell Mr. York he needs to hire a new girl."

Erza monitored Sienna's outraged expression and felt her own ire rising.

"Mr. York would never fire me because of what you say, Mr. Krane," Sienna maintained. She shot a look to Natalie as if she needed confirmation. Natalie's eyes were pinched dangerously. It was a look Erza recognized because she'd worn it herself many times before. This Mr. Krane was walking a dangerous path.

"Julian York cares about his money and his business, Sara, not individual whores like you." He turned and faced Erza. "New blood, huh? I think I'll have you first." He grabbed for her right there in the center of the casino. Erza was too shocked to do anything at first; no one had ever treated her like that before. His hands were clammy through the thin material of her dress, and rough. When he came in, lips puckered, Erza remembered herself. Balling her hand into a tight fist she swung hard. Mr. Krane lurched back, mouth bright with blood.

Erza panted and fixed her dress, indignant. Her knuckles panged quietly and her body felt filthy. "Don't ever lay your hands on me."

This part of the casino had gone quiet.

Krane straightened. "I paid for your services, are you too fucking stupid to know what a whore does?"

Erza fumed. She was raising her fists to beat the man some more when a cool voice sliced through her rage.

"I think, Mr. Krane, you are out of line. Firstly, Miss Scarlet is not one of my ladies, secondly, even if she were, I would never allow her to service a cretin like you." Julian came through the crowd that had gathered around them. On his face was a dangerous expression, bloodthirsty. "All of my girls set their own rules, and then there are mine." Two men flanked Julian, both wearing black suits, black shirts and black ties. They were guards, definitely, wearing black to hide the blood if things got messy. They grabbed Krane roughly by the shoulders and started forcing him from the main room. Krane howled like a pained cat until one of the men punched him hard in the gut; then he made not a sound. Julian didn't look back at Erza as he followed them out.

"I think Mr. Krane is in trouble," Natalie whispered. Her voice shook like she was scared. _Of Krane and what just happened, or_ for _Krane?_ Maybe both. The girl turned to Sienna. "Are you alright?"

Sienna brushed her hair back from her face and blinked away the dampness from her eyes. "I'm fine. And you, Erza? Are you okay?" She grabbed Erza's reddening hand. It'd probably bruise. It wasn't the cleanest punch she'd ever thrown, but hell, she'd been shaken.

"I'm alright."

"You were _amazing_ ," Sienna gushed. "Fantastic. I've wanted to hit him in his stupid face for _months_." She kissed Erza's cheek once, hard, then leaned back, eyes gleaming. "Thank you."

Erza flushed. "It was nothing."

"Nothing but incredible. I wouldn't have done it even if I wanted to; I wouldn't know how, firstly, and I don't want to lose my job."

Natalie said, "I told you, Sienna. If the men are mistreating you _tell Julian._ He won't be mad. He's not like Madam Genève."

Sienna gave Natalie an endearing look. "He's sweeter on you than he is on other girls."

Erza offered, "I'll show you how to punch in case he ever comes back."

Sienna's mouth turned into a smile. "I'd like that. Come on, let's go get a drink. I think Mr. Krane is buying." She took the wad of cash out of her bra, an infectious gleam in her eye.

Erza rolled her shoulders back and allowed Natalie to take her arm again. The three of them cut a path through the casino, gathering looks of awe along the way.

* * *

Pounding, freezing rain beating on the side of his sore face woke Jellal from a comatose state. His vision was bleary so he blinked and blinked. Water ran into his eyes. He rubbed them clear, hissing when pain lanced through his temple. He fingered the area and realized he had a giant goose egg.

 _How?_ Then he remembered the ham-sized fist colliding with his face. _Stupid._ He sat up slowly, groaning, and realized he'd been dropped beneath the bridge at Silver River. Rain drilled through the boards above and soaked him. His clothing was saturated, his hair. Sand stuck to his palms and his back. he'd had a rock for a pillow, so that wasn't quite so bad, but holy fuck, did everything hurt.

Slowly, he gathered his feet beneath him. Being vertical wasn't his favorite thing; Silver River rushed up beneath his feet. He was toeing the water's edge before he realized he was swaying dangerously close to the now-black surface. He staggered back through a small patch of Silver Dragon, his pants protecting him from the plant's poisonous oils, and drunk-walked up the steep embankment, thankful at least that Madam's bull of a man had the decency to drop him somewhere close to Gomorrah.

* * *

Erza let Natalie order her one drink at Gomorrah's bar, a green apple margarita.

"And dash some of this in mine, please," Natalie said, handing a small container full of a fine silver leaf to the woman behind the bar.

"What is it?" Erza wondered.

"Fantastic. It's called Silver," Natalie said with a smile. "Just a little, Marina," she told the blue haired bartender. "Like, the tiniest amount."

Sienna asked, "It's ready, Natalie?"

The girl shrugged. "Mostly. Julian is still trying it out, but I had some the other day. As long as you only have a little it's okay."

"Are you sure Mr. York is okay with this?" Marina asked, the concern in her voice mimicking Sienna's.

"Absolutely," Natalie said.

Marina turned away. It was that surety that made Erza think maybe Julian didn't know. "What's so special about it? Why would Julian have to be okay with it?"

Natalie smiled. "Because what Marina here is putting in my drink is expensive stuff, Erza."

"And it's brand new. I'm worried about it not being safe," Sienna said.

"What is it? A drug?" Erza asked.

"Mmm…" Natalie hummed. "I suppose. Yes."

Erza felt dangerous and disjointed, like someone else sitting at the bar with these girls drinking expensive drinks that they laced with bizarre drugs, _not_ Fairy Tail's moral re-quip mage. The feeling was so disorienting she nearly rose and fled. _Be calm._ It wasn't her drugs. She wasn't doing anything illegal. Her heart pattered with something like excitement; she identified it and found that maybe it was _sort_ of thrilling to be doing something bad like this.

 _It's not even bad, you're not doing anything._

The distinction still made her giddy.

Marina came back with their drinks.

"Thanks, sweetie." Natalie doled out the drinks then held up her glass in cheers. "To good men and good love." Erza and Sienna clinked their glasses together and drank it back.

* * *

By the time Jellal made it back to Gomorrah he was feeling more human. Human enough to remember Julian telling him to use the back door, at least. He dug through his pockets and came out with the key given to him, glad that it hadn't been taken, and unlocked the large door that he'd first found Sienna lurking around so many days before.

Stepping out of the pounding rain was like coming into a new world, a dry one that was dark and smelled like money and alcohol. A man appeared from the shadows. "Fernandez?"

Jellal blinked. He didn't recognize the man with his blonde hair and sharp blue eyes. "Who are you?"

"Julian told me to wait for you. Come on." The man started walking and wasn't at all concerned with how well Jellal kept up. To the left was the service elevators he and Sienna had taken, but to the right was a dully lit walnut floored stairwell. The man took the stairs two at a time, his long legs eating up the ground easily. Jellal rushed to keep up, his head pounding with every step, his fingers getting caught on the delicate, swirling iron railing.

The next floor down was the second from the basement. The blonde opened a pair of wide dark doors and ushered Jellal into a long hallway. It looked like the hallway that led to the rooms on the fourteenth floor, with its polished floors and light coloured walls shot through with more wrought iron designs.

"Where are we going?"

"To Mr. York's office," the man explained. He stopped in front of a door and knocked three times.

"Come." That was Julian. He sounded disinterested.

The blonde pushed open the door, revealing a peculiar scene. Occupying a chair in the center of the room was the man Jellal had beaten his first night in Innisfil. _Krane,_ Jellal remembered. He looked worse for wear now with both eyes swollen nearly closed, his nose and left cheek broken. His fingers were stuck out at odd angles, too. Two men in dark suits stood on either side of him, their knuckles red and broken and bloody. A third man stood in the back of the room, thin and sallow. He kept twitching, scratching at his skin. He had open sores on his neck and the back of his hands. He kept on scratching until he bled.

Jellal looked away from the blood and found Julian. He leaned back against his mahogany desk, cool, collected, as if it weren't peculiar to watch a man get beaten and broken. When he saw Jellal and the dark bruise along the side of his face his annoyance flashed through his calm exterior.

One of the men administering Krane's beating reeled back and punched him hard in the ribs. Krane gasped and doubled over in his chair. Julian held up his hand in a 'Stop' fashion.

"Wait, Lorne."

Lorne stopped.

"Wilbur, fix up his fingers, will you? I think they need to be broken again," Julian said and waved the skinny man forward from the back of the office.

"Yes, Sir." He shuffled over and crouched beside Krane. The room filled with magic.

 _He's a healer,_ Jellal realized.

Julian directed his attention away from a heavy breathing Krane and examined Jellal. "I see you're alive."

"Yeah."

"And injured. Things didn't go quite as planned?"

Jellal felt violence breathing just below the surface. He told himself to remain calm. "They barely went at all."

Julian said, "Go get him a towel, Brady, let him dry off."

One of the men, the shorter, stockier of the two, nodded his head and disappeared out of the door. Julian reached for a snifter from his desk and poured some amber liquid out of a decanter. He handed it to Jellal and said, "You can fill me in while we wait."

Jellal took the drink because his hands still wanted to shake, the memory of the Vault snapping viciously at his heels. He tossed it all back in one go. Julian filled up the glass for him again.

"Go ahead."

Jellal filled his lungs, feeling steadier, and launched into his tale. It was only a little distracting with Krane at his back hissing when his healing fingers pained.

"Did you see anything useful inside? The room where she makes her Illusion, or any of the mages she's been using to do it?"

Jellal shook his head. "I only went from the lobby into one of her pleasure rooms."

"And her staff?"

"I saw plenty but only had contact with one of her women and one of her men. Haya was the woman's name."

Julian nodded. "I've heard of her. She's one of the few mages Madam keeps in her employ. She uses air magic."

"And the man… I didn't get his name, but he left me with this." Jellal motioned to his head, feeling a stab of shame.

"Big bastard with dark skin?" Julian wondered.

"Sound about right," Jellal agreed. Julian offered him another drink. Jellal accepted this one, too. His head was still a knot.

"That'll be Adisa. I'm surprised you tangled with him and he left you alive."

Jellal's mood only got darker; he endeavoured to bring Julian down with him. "I remember him saying it was a message to you. To see Madam's power and know her mercy."

Julian's gaze sharpened. "You told them you were working for me?"

Jellal shook his head. "They made their own conclusions."

Julian cursed.

Jellal shrugged. "They were only guessing. She knows nothing."

"I hope for your sake that's true," Julian said.

Jellal bristled with the threat.

The door opened and Brady came back through with a towel. "Get dry," Julian ordered, "And get some rest. We'll try again tomorrow."

Julian looked at Krane. "That's enough, Wilbur. Heal Jellal's head now."

"I'm tired, Mr. York," Wilbur said.

Julian told him, "You won't have to heal Mr. Krane any more this evening. Just do this one more thing and I'll give you your Illusion, alright?"

Wilbur pushed away from Krane and came to Jellal. Jellal didn't want the man's clammy fingers on his temple, but his migraine was the worse thing he could imagine at the moment. Cooling magic flooded his body. His headache eased slightly, but didn't disappear entirely. Wilbur scrunched up his face in concentration, really pushing it. His magic fluctuated then sputtered. The man weaved, his eyes fluttered, then he collapsed to the floor in a heap of skin and bones.

Jellal blinked. "He exhausted himself."

Julian sighed. "Of course. It's probably been days since he's eaten last, the miserable waste. That's fine, as I said, Mr. Krane won't need any more healings."

Jellal found Krane. "What did he do?" Last he heard the man was banned from Gomorrah.

"He thought money bought him privilege. Miss Scarlet did herself service showing him how incorrect he was, but I thought I'd really drill it into his head."

"Erza?"

"I said I was sorry," Krane said in a quivering voice. "I didn't know she wasn't one of yours, Mr. York."

The world slowed. "One of yours?"

"Yes, it seemed Mr. Krane thought Miss Scarlet was a lady to be bought, one he could disrespect at that."

It slowed further still.

A knife appeared in Julian's hand. "I think we have a lot in common. I don't much enjoy when men disrespect my women either, Mr. Fernandez."

The blade was heavy and cold in Jellal's hand. Colder still in Mr. Krane's neck.

* * *

"Erza?" Sienna's face swam in front of Erza's. "Erza? Are you alright?"

Erza rolled her head back on her shoulders and stared at the ceiling. Her tongue was dry, too dry to talk, or so she thought. _I feel strange_.

Natalie's laugh came, high and girlish. "Marina, you gave me the wrong drink."

"I did?"

"Look, she's higher than hell." A cool palm touched Erza's forehead. It was then Erza realized her eyes were closed. She pried them open and saw Sienna's blue eyes and coral coloured lips. She was close. Too close. Her kiss earlier resonated in Erza's mind.

"Mm…" Sienna hummed. "I think maybe we should get you upstairs."

"Jellal—" _I was supposed to go after him._ Fear tried to chase out the warm feeling in her veins.

"Remember the blonde man that just came over, Erza? His name was Colt?" Natalie asked.

No, she did not, thank you very much.

Bringing her lips close to her ear Natalie said, "Well, that doesn't matter. He just told me Julian is going to be a little while longer, he's with Jellal right now. You don't have to worry. He's safe."

Erza tore her eyes away from Sienna and found Natalie's hazel ones. "He is?"

"Yes."

"You're sure?"

"I promise." Her fingers trailed through Erza's hair. "Come on, lovely, let's go back to your room so you can sleep this off, alright?"

"I… I'm supposed to be staying with Jellal tonight. I promised."

Sienna's lips curled up at the corners. Erza didn't remember looking at her again, but apparently she was. The girl's freckles seemed to stand out on her nose and cheeks, each individually unique and beautiful. She was touching her face before she knew it. Sienna grabbed her wrist.

"I think you're beautiful, too. Now come on, before I keep you for myself and Jellal gets angry with me."

Natalie said something in a low, sultry voice that Erza missed.

Sienna's arm wrapped around Erza's back. "You're a bad influence, Natalie."

Erza didn't hear her response either, because she was too busy remembering how to stand and how to walk. The casino flew by in a riot of sound, colour, laughter. Sienna's and Natalie's grip on her waist were the only _real_ thing she experienced, everything else was dreamlike, there one minute, gone in a flash. The casino.

Gone.

The elevator.

Gone.

The hallway.

Gone.

"Hold her up while I open the door."

A wall and then a body pressed into Erza's. She opened her eyes and looked at Natalie. The brunette lifted her hand and rubbed her thumb over Erza's lip. "You're very beautiful, Erza." Erza's lip burned. Sienna appeared, wriggling between them, and stole a kiss from Natalie.

"Come on, the door's open."

"Is Jellal inside?" Erza queried.

"He will be soon." Sienna pulled Erza through the door and closed it only after Natalie came in, too. Natalie tugged out her high ponytail and tried to go for Erza, mouth seeking. Sienna held her back and kissed her instead. Erza watched, cemented in place, unable to look away from the two of them. Her heart sped and her skin rose in goose bumps.

Natalie took her mouth away long enough to ask, "Isn't Sienna beautiful?" She grabbed the woman's dress and tugged it down over her breasts. Erza's cheeks heated, despite her inebriated state.

"I love the shy girls," Natalie crooned and reached for her.

Sienna grabbed the girl's hands and brought them back to her breasts. "I promised Erza I wouldn't touch her again unless she asked."

"You're sweeter than me," Natalie said. "Let's try to make her ask." She bowed and took the other woman's hard nipple into her mouth. Sienna's moan crashed through Erza. She realized her breathing had changed, had become short as she watched Natalie fawn over the other girl.

Sienna's fingers closing around Erza's tugged Erza from her fixation. She looked down and realized Natalie had worked under Sienna's dress and was petting between her legs. _Gods._ Sienna squeezed her hand tighter.

"I want to lay down. Natalie—please—"

Natalie took her mouth away from the girl's chest. "Sure thing, love." She swayed towards Jellal's bed like it was her own and undid the halter of her light yellow dress, pulling it down over her breasts. Erza's ears roared all the more.

"Come here, Erza. Sit down, okay?" Sienna was so close her breath tickled Erza's neck. Erza closed her eyes, feeling each puff of air like a caress. Her mind was sluggish in saying, _step away,_ while her body responded to it like the girl was giving her intense pleasure.

"It's hard to keep my promise when you sigh for me like that," Sienna whispered. Her tongue flicked out and caressed Erza's ear. Erza took a halting step backwards and would have fallen, tripped over her high heels, but Sienna was there to catch her, hands looping under her arms and wrapping around her ribs both too tight and too high. Erza sighed again. Sienna's nose found the crux of her neck. She breathed her in.

"Tell me what you want, Erza," Sienna said. "Do you want a kiss?"

Erza blinked, and blinked, and blinked. _A kiss._ A kiss would be wonderful.

Natalie stood from the bed and came to Erza's front. "I agree that I'm not a very good influence, Sienna, but it doesn't take very much to make you bad."

The room around Natalie's body distorted. _Not distorted_ , Erza thought. _I'm moving again._ Into the room to one of the arm chairs. Natalie turned her around so her back was against her chest, allowing Sienna to see, and kissed her neck. Erza's skin ignited, her brain took a tumble. She imagined that over Sienna's shoulder she saw Jellal appear from the shadows. His eyes were black pits. The most wonderful, terrifying things she'd ever seen. She could get lost looking at them. She loved them as much as she hated them.

"Why do I feel this way?"

"Remember? It's the Silver I mixed in the drink," Natalie said. "Marina must have given you mine." She didn't _sound_ sorry for it. "What do you say, Erza? Do you want a kiss?"

Erza licked her lips, still looking at the Jellal that stood behind Sienna's shoulder. "I…"

"Yes?" Natalie breathed. She was migrating north, mouth moving up Erza's jaw. Closer, closer. The Jellal Erza saw moved closer, too, a specter, a ghost silent on his feet. His eyes were the most alive thing about him, dark and brooding, the edge of one black and blue as if he'd been hit.

 _That's a strange hallucination._

"I actually meant did Erza want to kiss _me,_ Natalie," Sienna griped. Her words had very little heat behind them. At least, not the annoyed kind.

"You know I like it when you watch," Natalie murmured. Lips found the corner of Erza's mouth. "Do you want a kiss, Erza? Tell me. Tell me yes."

Erza's heart galloped like a thoroughbred. She still couldn't take her eyes away from Jellal. He was in that plum coloured shirt, the one that fit snugly and brought out the green in his hazel eyes. The tie she'd wrapped around his throat was loose, as if he'd pulled upon it. For now, he just stood there and stared, his eyes stuck to her like glue, a spark behind them that she wasn't sure she recognized; she and Jellal didn't know each other enough yet in that capacity, but she _wanted_ to.

"What do you say?"

 _Say?_

She must have spoken aloud, though she had no recollection.

"A kiss." Natalie flicked her tongue over Erza's lips.

 _A kiss_. "Yes."

Natalie stretched that little bit further and fixed their lips together. Kissing her was a lot like kissing Sienna, sweet tasting, smooth, _strange._ Even more so because this was not the kiss she'd been anticipating. Even more so because her head was so goddamn disorganised. Even more so because Jellal's gentle baritone filled the air and crashed over her like a wave of pleasure.

"I don't think Erza knows what she agreed to."

"She looks like maybe she does. Are you going to separate them?" Julian's voice came next. _Julian?_ Erza opened her eyes and found him behind Jellal.

Natalie grabbed her breast. Erza's whole body ignited with pleasure. She turned to meet the girl more properly, an automatic response to keep the intense euphoria rolling through her body. It was like when she first tried Illusion. But not. This girl wasn't changing into someone new. It was just wave after wave of ecstasy, so much so that every part of her skin was raised in goosebumps. Her nipples were hard; she knew because Natalie pinched and plucked. Between her legs was damp. A sultry sound filled the air and she realized that it came from _her_ mouth.

 _Gods._

It felt like she was dying.

It felt like she'd never been more alive.

A new pair of hands landed firstly on Erza's wrist. They worked to carefully separate her from the girl she kissed. Then they tracked up, gliding over her arm in a tender caress that eased across the exposed skin at her chest and terminated on her opposite shoulder. Erza didn't realize Natalie had stopped kissing her until a new mouth took up residence, this one rougher, scratchier with stubble.

 _Oh._

Her eyes came open. All she could see was that maroon tattoo. _Jellal._ Her chest expanded several times. He wrapped his arms around her body and held her snug to his chest. Dimly through her intoxication, she felt his chest rise and fall, rise and fall. She pressed her hand over his heart and felt it stammer and wanted to feel it more. More and more and more.

She found the collar of his shirt, slid around all the way to the front of his throat, and started fussing with the buttons. Her fingers were clumsy so she just broke the threads holding the buttons in place, one after the other. They hit the floor and rolled away.

"I think things just got serious," came Natalie's voice. "Maybe we should leave them, love. Go scare up some romance of our own."

Julian mumbled something Erza missed. The door snicked closed just as Jellal's shirt came all the way open, his skin warm and damp. _Damp?_

"It's raining," he whispered against her mouth. Erza didn't remember asking _that_ , either.

 _The rain. The rain._ And _Jellal._ Where had he come from? She was too enthralled to ask the question.

* * *

Anyone catch that introduction of my favorite Noir character? Anyone at all? I just love him. I am mostly glad I'm writing this : )


	13. Chapter 13

Erza beneath his hands was the only thing Jellal could think about. He told himself to stop touching her, though when he tried, she breathed a vexed protest that burned through him like hot mercury and left him feeling raw and dumb. She took him by the wrists and put his hands back on her body. Who was he to say no to the terrible goddess she'd become?

The white lacy dress she wore wasn't the modest kind. The fabric was thin beneath his rough hands, delicate like he knew Erza wasn't. The juxtaposition of it made him feel crazy. He squeezed her ribs beneath her full breasts and moaned when she did, the sound muffled against her mouth. Her hands, around his wrists a moment ago, trekked south over his chest, following a thin trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his soaked dress pants. She skimmed over the thick black belt he wore, down past the zipper, and grabbed his erection and squeezed hard enough that it hurt in the sweetest way.

"Erza…" Jellal worked to swallow with his desert-dry mouth. _Stop her._ He couldn't even remember _how._

"Yes?"

"You make it hard to be a good person."

She bit his lip until Jellal tasted blood, then whispered, "That's only because you're not."

Her words cut through his daze, not drawing him out of this ill-destined path, but slicing the way through so he could venture deeper. _'Let's not pretend to be better men than what we are.'_

 _Gods._

While she massaged him, he licked her lip, tasting his own blood and lipstick that didn't belong to Erza. The image of her kissing that woman flashed through his mind. Body pulsing, his hands moved on their own accord, finding her ribcage and wandering higher to the plentiful slope of her breasts that sat a little lower without the confines of a bra. The discovery made him even more excited. He paused just there, fingers on her ribs, thumbs exploring north, and felt the ridges surrounding the very tips of her nipples. She crooned on contact.

 _Gods._

He should have pulled away, should have told her that she didn't know what she was doing, should have found a different room to stay in that night. He didn't. He didn't want to hire Sienna again and pretend, not while Erza was _here_. He listened greedily for her sighs and committed them to memory while he felt up her torso and learned what kinds of touches made Erza Scarlet sob. Gentle, then rough. Rough, then gentle.

Erza's hand moved between them, abandoning his shaft in favour of his belt. It came open so easily, Jellal wondered if she broke it. She tried to go for his pants next. He stopped her by grabbing her wrists and bringing her hands up around his neck.

Erza groaned again in displeasure. "Let me."

Her voice was sticky sweet, full of desire. He almost did. "Sh," he told her instead. "Let me see you." His hands shook, but the alcohol Julian had given him, at least one third of the bottle by the time he was through with Krane, through with washing his hands and burying the monster once more, was helping to steady them.

Erza linked her hands together around his neck and quieted, stunned into immobility by the scratchiness of his voice. Jellal found the tab of the zipper at the back of her dress and started tugging it down, revealing the ivory skin hidden beneath inch by inch. The zipper dropped all the way to the middle of her back. Before he let her take her hands away so he could get the dress the rest of the way down, Jellal planted two fingers at the top of her spine where her hair kissed her neck and traced the sensitive vertebrae all the way he could. She bowed into him like a flower bending in the wind and bit his lip again, teeth sinking in at the same location. More copper filled his mouth, making him feel fragmented and lunatic. The Jellal that belonged to Ultear and the Tower of Heaven lurked in the recesses of his mind. He slipped his tongue against Erza's and tasted her, thinking maybe that would push him back. It didn't. He broke the kiss and Erza's hold around his neck, trying to give himself something else to focus on. As soon as she was free, Erza's hands found his hips, fingers seeking around the band of his pants again, sidetracking him while she tugged on the button.

It came open with little struggle, enticing a breathy pant of joy from Erza, a sound Jellal didn't even know she was capable of. His head rushed. With Erza leading, he felt his control slipping away. "Wait."

Erza met his eyes. There was a smudge of red on his lip. She lifted her hand and wiped away the lipstick, shattering Jellal's illusion of blood. He realized that his lip wasn't seeping, his tongue didn't taste like copper. Just lipstick and alcohol and something sweet from Erza's mouth. The world spun with barely contained insanity.

 _Keep going._ He started working on her dress again. The white edging over her lightly freckled skin reminded him of clouds. Down it came, exposing her smooth chest, her barren arms where her Fairy Tail insignia used to be. Down lower, over the swell of her breasts. He didn't hesitate at the tips like he thought he might, he was too absorbed for that. The material came down. Her nipples were medallion sized, light pink and rigid. Though he wanted to bow and taste her, he continued on his mission to see her nude, kneeling out of her grasp so he could wedge the dress off her hips and see the snow white lacy thong she'd been hiding beneath. It was tight enough that it dug into her skin pleasingly.

Jellal let gravity do the rest of the work for him; the dress pooled around Erza's feet. With shaking fingers, he tucked under the snug fabric at her hip and used it to pull her in close so he could trace its edge with his tongue. On contact the girl above him breathed. It sounded very different than the kind of sigh Sienna gave him while wearing Erza's face. The substitute had been okay before, but now that he saw how inadequate Sienna played at being the real Erza, he knew he'd been cheating himself.

He kissed her hip and her thigh on one leg and gave the other the same treatment, then lapped up the inner quadrant of her leg until he tasted the material that covered her. Above, breath snagged, hands found his hair and dragged him in closer. He drew circles with his tongue through her panties. Given her gasp, he knew she enjoyed it.

"Jellal," Erza whispered his name.

He looked up the line of her body and saw she was watching his every move, her dark lips parted in a small O of pleasure. Some of the glaze had left her eyes. Either she wasn't so high anymore, or she was focused enough that _this_ sensation had pushed out the other euphoria for awhile. Whatever the case, her eyes were on him. _Erza_. Her hair fell in strands brighter than rubies, a red purer than blood. Jellal found himself wrapping his arms around her thighs and lifting her clear off her feet. The bed caught her weight, the force of the fall stealing the remonstration from her lips. He climbed up there with her, pushing her back down when she tried to come up on her elbows.

She got her breath back again. "Jellal—"

He kissed her mouth, taking his name from her lips, then her chin. She tasted like body lotion, vanilla and sandalwood. It didn't taste particularly nice, yet the bitterness was part of the enjoyment. She was a little bit sweet, a lot sharp.

He bit her neck hard enough to leave a mark. She cried out in pain. He softened the bite with a kiss that started with lips and ended with his tongue meandering down her body. He got past her collarbone. Erza tried to sit up again.

Jellal didn't remember grabbing her throat, but he did. It was smooth and delicate. He squeezed hard first, a reaction not truly his own, then somewhat remembered himself and eased his grip. When she could sigh, it sounded more like a sob. He looked up from the tops of her breasts and studied her face, trying to see if that was a cry of terror or pleasure or pain.

Her eyes were heavy lidded. He tried to take his hand away so she could have more freedom; she grabbed his wrist and kept him there.

"Don't stop."

"Erza—"

"Don't."

His fingers squeezed, too hard again. Erza's eyes closed like she trusted him. And why wouldn't she? She didn't know the turmoil in his head, the lull of her voice, her body, how that lull bled into violence so very, very easily. His hands shook. He released her.

"Jellal," Erza said in a smoky voice.

"I can't—"

She grabbed his wrist and slipped two of his fingers into her mouth, licking and sucking. He closed his eyes and saw red. He opened them and saw red. He looked into Erza's steady brown orbs. Her pupils were like black holes, taking up most of her eyes. He kept his gaze on hers, focusing on that, on her tongue swirling around his fingers, on her chaotic breaths. The humanness of it brought him back around, chased out some of the crazy. He allowed himself to touch her again, sliding his fingers out of her mouth and finding the space between her legs. The lace of her panties was warm and wet.

Grabbing the fabric, he pulled it low around her hips.

 _Slow._

 _Calm._

 _Breathe._

"Lift up."

She submitted, arching her hips well enough that the material could be discarded and forgotten somewhere on the floor. Jellal took a moment to truly appreciate her. Delicately freckled ivory skin, shockingly red hair, dark eyes. The _real_ Erza Scarlet. He came for her.

Erza stopped him with her hand on his chest, suddenly intense. "Were there others?"

 _Others?_ Jellal remembered their conversation before he left. "Only you tonight, Erza." He wondered if it weren't the truth if he would have told her any lie she wanted to hear if it meant he didn't have to stop.

"Take your clothes off," Erza said definitively.

Jellal licked dry lips, still himself enough to fully grasp the magnitude of what he was doing. He was feeding all his demons, giving them a taste of Erza Scarlet. Even with that knowledge, how could he say no?

Jellal, who hadn't been nervous in such exploits since he'd worked for Madam Genève, felt his fingers shaking as he fussed with the button of his pants. They came open. He watched Erza sit up and push the hair away from her face so she could watch the damp clothing fall away. She looked eager, not like a girl that was pushed in to something or tricked or cowed into submission. Some of his trepidation eased when the pants came down, as if that one barrier was the thing that required all the bravery, not going to Erza at all, but _preparing_ to go to her.

When he was nude, Erza leaned forward and pressed her lips to the plane of his abdominal muscles. The skin jumped beneath her lips, sensitive. Her tongue lapped out next, taking away residual rainwater. Then her lips closed in a kiss that turned into more. She sucked, marking him in the same way he'd marked her. Only when they matched did she lay back and allow him to come to her.

Jellal still shook. It had migrated to his entire body now, though, small tremors that impeded his breathing more than a little. Erza's arms wrapped up under his, her hands clasped his shoulders.

"Look at me."

He didn't understand why she asked; he couldn't look away. Her hair was silk through his fingers. He held her tight, memorizing the feel of her spreading for him. Her legs came up and wrapped around his hips, drawing their bodies close together. He untangled her hair from his fingers long enough to guide himself into her opening.

* * *

Jellal didn't remember falling asleep. He didn't remember his dreams, either, not specifically. The closest he came was knowing that they were violent, some of the bloodiest he'd ever had. When he woke he was shaking and his stomach was sick.

He opened eyes that felt glued closed, and looked at the wash of red on his pillow, illuminated by the fading light of the new day. First there was fear, then he realized that he wasn't sleeping in a bed of blood, but he was surrounded by Erza's hair, the scarlet strands encasing her pillow and cradling her face. Her eyes were closed still; last night's makeup smeared the bedsheet below her mouth, lipstick. Jellal could still taste it. He recalled the moment he thought she'd bitten him hard enough to break the skin. Using his tongue, he prodded the area; it was smooth, uninterrupted by any kind of abrasion. _Imagining._ That was a terrifying illusion. And what did it mean? That Innisfil was fucking with him more than he wanted to admit? That going to Madam Genève's had shaken him? That he was just straight up fucked?

Each possibility made him feel sicker. He was too hot. Carefully, he untangled himself from Erza. She made a quiet noise and curled into the warm spot he left behind, but her eyes remained closed. Jellal grabbed a pair of shorts off the floor, unconcerned with their cleanliness, and staggered to the bathroom. His stomach felt heavy with Julian's 50-year-old single malt whisky. His mouth watered. He swallowed it back and closed the door, then leaned against its cool surface. It was solid beneath his bare back. He breathed deeply, in until his lungs were absolutely full, then out until they were absolutely empty. He did this until he mostly felt like he wasn't going to vomit.

 _Good._

He stood straight, went to the toilet and pissed, propping himself up by planting his forearm on the wall when he swayed too much. Finished, he dragged his shorts on, then stumbled to the sink and turned on the cold water, thinking that would wake him up and scare off his hangover. It only really succeeded on making him sputter, shocked.

Resigning himself to feeling like shit until he didn't, he searched out a razor and some shaving cream. Both were beneath the sink. Either Gomorrah thought of everything, or Sienna was making sure he had everything he needed. He set to work shaving, careful to keep his eyes away from the colourful bruise that accompanied his Vault tattoo. He was so busy trying _not_ to look at himself, he nearly missed when the Jellal in the mirror blinked separately of him, then opened his mouth.

"There was a time when we used to kill for a purpose. A cause." It was his own voice, but it was low, scratchy.

Startled, Jellal looked away and shook his head clear. He waited several seconds before he was brave enough to look in the mirror again. His reflection followed his movements. _Relax. You're tired, you're still drunk._ His hands shook, but he determined to act normal. He ran the razor blade over his neck. Because his fingers were shaking so badly, it snagged on his Adam's apple. Blood welled to the surface, bright. He cussed and turned the water on cold, trying to wash away the red dots that had fallen into the sink, no longer wanting to look at them.

His reflection spoke again. "A cause. The only men that died by your hand were the ones that needed to, and no more. You saved yourself for the wickedest. The ones that needed to know the monster."

Jellal met his eyes in the mirror; the him staring back quirked his mouth into a smile. His heart leapt with fear. _You're hallucinating_.

"And if you're not?"

 _Then your broken._

"Well, yes to that. Thank Ultear."

"Stop talking." He didn't think about how crazy he felt in that moment.

"Is it the blood your addicted to? Or the screams? Is it the way they die?"

Everything. "Be quiet."

"Who is next, Jellal? Where does the killing end? Maybe it's a track that only has one terminus."

"Jellal?" Erza's voice was clear cutting through the bathroom door.

"If I had to hazard a guess…"

"Shut up."

"Jellal?" Erza called again. "Are you alright?"

"Erza dressed in red?"

His dream came roaring back; it was Erza that was split chin to navel, not Krane. She sucked in breath wetly, fingers sliding weakly through the blood. _Because I was a monster before I was a man_.

Jellal felt the bile rise up. He couldn't even get to the toilet before he was sick. The sink would have to do. The only thing in his stomach was old whisky. His throat burned, his eyes watered, the razor in his hand cut into his thumb because he palmed it, terrified and ill.

"Jellal!" Erza pounded on the door. She tried the handle; it opened, allowing her to enter. She froze in the doorway for a moment, taking in the scene. There was blood all over the white marble counter; she couldn't see where it was coming from. Jellal heaved into the sink again, a pained sound. He had nothing left in his stomach. The water washed the sick away yet the smell remained. There was a breath where Erza thought she was going to join him, then she strengthened her constitution and came to him. Her hand landed between his shoulder blades in what was supposed to be a comforting fashion. He jolted like he was shocked and reeled away from her.

Erza caught him before he crashed into the bathtub, her fingers closing around his wrist. She had to use two hands, nearly pulled off balance by his weight. "Hey."

His eyes were a million miles away, seeing something only he could see.

"Jellal." Erza squeezed his wrist tight and pulled him upright. There was blood in his hand. She finally saw where it was coming from, his thumb was torn open by a straight edge shaving blade. "You hurt yourself."

He only gasped air like a fish out of water.

Erza fought against the way her heart panged. Carefully she worked the blade out of his hand and set it on the counter. Then she focused on Jellal. The water rushed in the background; she left it on for the moment. "Look at me."

Last night came back to him. ' _Look at me.'_ He was afraid of what he'd find when he finally did. His eyes got trapped in the red of her hair. She'd thrown a short robe over her body, light pink in colour. There was blood on its sleeve.

"At me," Erza said when his breathing increased again.

Jellal followed the sound of her voice to her lips, then up. Her brown eyes were pinched in concern.

Erza reached behind herself, searching blindly for toilet paper. She found it and tore off a huge chunk to wrap his thumb up. She squeezed it so hard she was sure it hurt; she couldn't _not_ , he'd scared her. "Are you okay?"

Jellal wasn't sure if he could talk. He found the will. "Just—I'm fine."

"Why were you sick?" She pressed the back of her hand against his forehead. He was clammy cold.

Bile was all he could taste. He wanted to gag again. "Drinking. Too much." His neck was hot with what could only be embarrassment.

Erza tried to determine if he was telling the truth. She could barely remember last night, other than falling into bed with him. She eased her grip on his wrist. "You cut yourself pretty bad."

He straightened, pulling out of her grasp completely. "I'm okay."

Erza leaned back against the wall, the tension fleeing her body fast enough that she felt weak. "Do you need me to get you anything?"

Jellal opened the cupboard under the sink, pulling out a small first aid bag. From it he found some aspirin. He took out four and dropped them to a clean segment of counter. When he felt well enough he'd swallow them back. "I'm okay, Erza. Just get out."

For an instant she looked hurt but recovered well. "Tell me if you need anything."

"I will." Jellal closed the door behind her and locked it this time. He stared at it for several prolonged moments, drawing up the courage to go back to the mirror, afraid of what was there. _You can't stay here like a coward._ He had to try to see Madam Genève again tonight, which meant he had to finish shaving.

 _You can't afford to be all fucked up, not like this. Get your shit together._

He pulled on every reserve of bravery he could and stepped towards the mirror. When he looked up, his face was paler than chalk, his neck bled sluggishly, and his eyes had dark rims beneath them. He was a mess. _One thing at a time_. He grabbed his toothbrush and set to work trying to get the taste of bile from his mouth.

* * *

Erza sat on the bed waiting for Jellal to finish up in the washroom when someone came to the door. She stared at the blocking barrier, not really wanting to move. Her whole body felt weird, like all of her muscles were used up, her magic exhausted.

The knock came again.

She sighed and stood, crossing the room. At the door, she stood on tiptoe, half expecting to see Sienna's head of red hair. She was disappointed when she saw that she was right, just wanting a few minutes to herself. She opened the door anyway.

"Good evening, Erza!" Sienna bustled in with a pile of bags, more chipper than ever when she took in Erza's messy head of hair, the deep blue bite mark on her neck that pained dully every time she moved her head, and her disheveled robe that clearly had nothing hidden beneath. Her smile only fell when she saw the blood.

"Who's bleeding?"

"Jellal cut himself when he was shaving," Erza said, wanting to preserve some of his dignity for him.

"Oh." She pushed back the curling ends of her hair. "I took the liberty of bringing your stuff up here for you. You will be staying here, right?"

Erza's cheeks heated. "I don't—"

"Yes." Jellal's voice came from behind her. Erza turned and found him leaning against the doorway, white towel wrapped around his waist. He looked much, _much_ better, not as pale, not as distant. She breathed easier, until his words sank in, then her heart leapt with several complicated emotions.

"Excellent," Sienna chirped. Her eyes trekked down Jellal's middle and landed on the hickey on his stomach. Her smile inched wider. "Mr. York said you were going out again tonight, Jellal. Did you want help choosing something to wear?"

Jellal wavered. _Remember. You're the worst thing to walk Innisfil's streets. You won't let Madam's people get the best of you again_. "Sure."

She brightened further. "I was hoping you'd say that. I already have something in mind." She dropped the clothes she carried to the bed and twitched towards the closet. The short dress she wore was silver tonight, the contrast to her black lipstick stark.

Erza tried to catch Jellal's eye. "You're going again? Back to that place?" She spoke quietly only when Sienna had disappeared into the walk-in closet.

"I have to."

She went to him, nervous but resolved, and touched his temple. "That's new. You were hurt last night." The bruise looked days old.

He caught her wrist and pulled out of her reach. "I'm fine." He didn't need Erza asking him again and again if he was alright; it wouldn't take much to crack his resolve and blow this whole thing out of the water.

Sienna came out of the closet toting a tight fitting black long-sleeved T-shirt, a fitted white double-breasted high collared jacket with oversized silver buttons, and a pair of black pants. "Dress," she said simply, dropping everything to a chair. She disappeared again, going back for shoes, Jellal decided.

"Jellal, can I come with you tonight?" Erza begged.

"No," he said simply. The towel fell away. He yanked on his pants, movements jerky. Those too were snug, fitted all the way down and boot cut, just like Madam liked. He tugged on his shirt next, hiding Erza's hickey, then the jacket. He started to do it up but stopped when Erza took over, her fingers much surer than his.

"You might need me."

 _I always need you_. Jellal caught her wrists when she got parallel to his shoulders, afraid that she'd do the jacket all the way up and suffocate him. It was an irrational fear, wrought only because he already felt like he couldn't get enough goddamn air. "I'll be fine."

Erza told herself to _shut up_ , that Jellal was plenty capable on his own. Her fear lingered, though. "What if—"

"I'm coming back here tonight." One way or another; with Madam's head or without but preferably with. Nothing would stop him. "Stop worrying."

Sienna re-emerged from the closet holding a pair of new looking army-style boots. They were blacker than pitch and shiny. She dropped them at Jellal's feet. "Hurry up. Mr. York had breakfast brought into his office for you, too."

Jellal's stomach roiled at the thought. He didn't let it show, too proud. Hunkering down, he started to get the boots on, the task an ordeal because there was so much lace to go up the tall shaft around his calf. "I'm going to need a cleaner up here or something," he told Sienna. "I got blood all over everything."

"I'll let them know," Sienna replied, unfazed. "Can you find your way back to Mr. York's office on your own?"

 _Maybe?_ He'd been fairly fuzzy headed when he'd come out of there. The real drunk hadn't hit until after he was in his room, though, so maybe there was some hope. "Yeah." He straightened.

Sienna leaned back to look at him, squinting critically. She came forward and fixed some of his unruly locks, prodded and encouraged others. Finally, she said, "You look handsome. Don't you think so, Erza?"

Erza wrapped her arms around her middle, her stomach feeling sick for no other reason than she didn't want him to go. _'There will be others_?' "Yes."

Jellal tucked the word away and nodded. "I'll see you tonight."

Erza chewed her lip. It was only when he started to turn away she decided she was brave enough to plant a kiss to his cheek. It was a quick peck, but in it she imbued all of the things she wanted to say. _Be careful. Come back. Think of me._

He squeezed her wrist in response, looking grateful for the gesture.

Erza watched him leave. Silence reigned until Sienna said, "I have to work tonight, so you're on your own, unless you want to learn the ins and outs of being a lady of the evening." She winked, showing Erza she was playing.

Erza pushed her hair back from her face, her head jumbled. "I'll figure something out."

"Hey," Sienna said, "I'm sorry about last night."

Erza shot a look her way.

"Natalie… well, everyone knows someone that brings out the best and worst in them, right? I really did want to just bring you to your room."

Erza's ears burned when some of last night's memories dislodged. Natalie's hands on her chest, her mouth…

 _'Say yes.'_

"How did you feel when you woke up?" Sienna asked, jarring her away from the memory that made her limbs burn.

Erza cleared her throat. "Like garbage."

Sienna nodded. "That's what I thought. Silver isn't ready yet, but Natalie… Sometimes I think it's the only thing she really loves."

Erza raised her brow.

Sienna smiled and shrugged with forced carelessness and moved on. "Hey, will you show me how to punch like you promised?"

Erza scoured her brain for that part of the evening. She remembered Mr. Krane so very, very vaguely, but Sienna's fear was potent enough. "Of course."

* * *

 _I'm really excited for next chapter. Like, to the point where I'm_ _ **actually**_ _going to bother making notes so I don't forget about all the badass things I'm going to write about. (here's to delivering on the build-up)._


	14. Chapter 14

Jellal decided to take the stairs instead of the elevator, figuring he'd have less motion sickness by those means. He was almost correct; he only experienced severe vertigo on the stairs when he looked over the edge to see the cascading white tiled steps. Edged by curling wrought iron bannisters on either side, they looped down, down, down. The longer he looked, the more it felt like he was spiraling along, too. His stomach twisted badly enough that his mouth watered again. He stopped looking.

On floor eleven he found the girl known as Natalie leaning against one of the walls, a dazed look on her face like she was tired. Her light purple dress was slightly askew, too, showing off a healthy amount of plump breasts. Drumming up the image of her and Erza together was the easiest thing to do. A small thrill pushed out his nausea just a bit.

"Hello, Jellal," she greeted when she saw him. She stood straight and shook her chestnut hair back from her shoulders. "How was Erza this morning?"

Jellal remembered waking up on a bed of red hair. Erza's lips on his cheek before he left. If he didn't feel like such shit, he would have taken more time to appreciate her…

"You have impeccable timing, I must say," Natalie continued without waiting for a reply. "Which was good for you, but I was a little sad to have her taken away from me." Her hazel eyes were full of mischief. Her smile got larger. Her tiredness was a forgotten memory. "Did she miss me?"

Jellal stuffed his hands into his pockets to hide the half-hearted erection any such passing thought of Erza plagued him with. "I think she was a little preoccupied."

Natalie laughed. "I bet."

"What did you give her?" Because he'd _never_ seen Erza like that before. He didn't even think it was possible.

"Why, you want to try some?" She got a feverish look in her eye.

"Just tell me."

She pouted but relented. "It's called Silver. It's brand new."

Jellal got a sinking feeling in his stomach. "Silver?"

"You got it, love, it's—"

"Made from Silver Dragon?" he supplied, though he doubted that's what she was going to say.

Her mouth curled. "How did you know?"

 _Can't be_. He didn't think she was kidding. "You fed that to Erza?" He could kill her.

"It was an accident," she said innocently. She too was a very, very good liar. Her only tell was a slight flutter of her lashes.

"You're lying to me."

"I am not," Natalie said. "We were all sitting at the bar, having a good time. I ordered Erza a drink and asked Marina to add the Silver to mine. When she gave them to us she gave Erza the laced drink, that's all—"

Jellal grabbed her shoulder and forced her back against the smooth wall. "Stop lying. Why did you drug her?"

Fear flashed behind Natalie's eyes. "We were just having fun. She was safe."

"Was she?" She was a _mess_. A beautiful, giving mess.

Recognizing the dangerous lilt to his voice made Natalie shake. "You're hurting me. Let go."

He squeezed tighter instead. "Why did you drug her?" A thought chilled him to the bone. "Are you working with Madam Genève as well? Or were you trying to sell her?"

"I would never deal with that witch, knowing what she is and what she does. What she did to Sienna," Natalie said with vehemence.

"Don't lie." It felt like he only wanted to hear one answer. He pushed her back against the wall hard and imagined giving her the same treatment he gave to Krane. "I'm good at getting the answers I want."

Natalie's eyes got wet and as round as planets. "Julian will kill you if he sees how you're treating me—"

He didn't care what Julian did. "Talk. Why did you drug her? What were you planning?"

She really started to cry now, lip quivering, nose sniffling. This time Jellal couldn't tell if she was acting or not as large rain drop-sized tears leaked down her face. "I'm telling the _truth_. I didn't want to hurt her. I just—I just wanted to have some fun." A black smudge of mascara ran down her cheek.

Jellal's demons came racing to the surface. _Cut it out of her._ _'You used to kill for a purpose.'_ Did this qualify? _Enough blood._ Innisfil was making him quite the sinner. He forced himself to _calm down._ "Fun?"

"I just wanted to mess around," Natalie said. "Sienna—she likes her, and I kinda do, too. I thought it would be fun."

He _still_ didn't know if he believed her or not. He didn't think she was as frightened as she acted. "If you're lying to me—"

Natalie said, "I'm—I'm not. I swear. I just wanted to mess around. She was even into it. If she wasn't I wouldn't have tried."

 _Let her go._ He forced himself to release her shoulder and said, "If you ever put her in danger like that again—give her _Silver_ again—"

She rubbed her shoulder. "It's safe, Jellal. Safe enough that Julian lets me take it."

"That means nothing. He doesn't seem like a man that's heavy on sentiment," Jellal said.

Natalie swiped at her eyes, composing herself. "He loves me. He'd never put me in danger."

"You don't know that," he sustained. He _knew_ men like Julian York. Sly, avaricious. Enterprising. His first love was money and it would always be that way.

"Of course I do," she snapped. That she truly believed.

Jellal took a step away from her and forced his mind to calm even more. "No more, or our conversation will go differently."

"He'll kill you to hear you speak like that, too."

"Stronger men than Julian York have begged me for their lives." _Because I was a monster before I was a man._ He didn't even know if that were true any longer. He felt all monster these days. _It's this place._ Innisfil and Casino Gomorrah and Madam Genève. _It'll be over soon._

Natalie rubbed her hands over her dress. She couldn't hide the way they shook. "Don't threaten him."

He gave her a look that had made countless wither.

Natalie was no different. Her breath rattled audibly in her lungs. "You don't threaten him and I won't give her anymore Silver."

"Good."

She practically collapsed with relief. Feeling like a bully, Jellal tried to turn and leave before she could make him feel any guiltier.

"Jellal," Natalie called him back.

He looked over his shoulder. "What?"

Her hands stopped quivering. "I don't want us to leave on bad terms. I know you and Sienna were close. She speaks of you fondly when she bothers to remember her time in the Vault."

He only stared.

Natalie sucked in a breath and asked, "Are you going to see Julian?" Her voice was still slightly clogged with tears, and her cheeks were red, but she seemed better now that there was some space between them.

"Yes," he replied. "Why?"

"You have to walk through Gomorrah."

"Yeah."

She tapped her cheek where his mark was. "Maybe you should consider covering that up. Someone with a loose tongue might still see you and tell Madam Genève. I think that's trouble both for you and for Julian."

 _Oh._ His cobwebby head cleared a little. He felt stupid. He'd lived with it for so long he almost didn't notice it anymore, but everyone here did. "Why didn't Julian say something?"

Natalie clutched her elbows and looked either way down the hall, then up and down the stairway before she said, "Between you and me? I think he likes to get a measure of a man. This is the best way he knows how." She paused, considering her next words as if she were unsure if she should say them or not. Finally, she dropped her voice and whispered, "As an apology, I'll give you a word of caution. If you're going to partner with him, Jellal, make sure you're always thinking like that. Julian is a good man in the sense that he'll keep to his word, but… He doesn't leave much room for error, if you know what I mean."

With little effort he remembered Krane and the weight of the knife in his hand. He knew Julian's idea of mercy. It was strange being on the delivering end of it. How had that happened? _You're less of a protector and more of an enforcer now._ He wasn't sure how he felt about the swap. "Are you saying he'll kill me if I step badly?"

"Are you a forgiving man?" Natalie asked instead of answered.

In Innisfil, incompetence was debilitating and mercy meant death. Jellal decided not to take the knowledge personally. Again, he knew men like Julian, being very much that way himself. "Thanks for the warning."

"Here. I'll help you." Natalie rooted through a small clutch bag at her side and pulled out a concealer case much like the one Sienna had. It wasn't going to work as well, though.

"Your skin is darker than mine."

She smiled; it didn't reach her eyes. "It's magicked to mimic your skin tone." She approached, cotton pad brandished, as if they hadn't just had a tense altercation. Jellal stayed stationary as she gathered powder on the cotton pad then patted his face gently. Her cool fingers were quick and efficient. She was done in seconds, as if she didn't want to stay so close for very long, and snapped the concealer case closed.

"You're good now, no one will know what you were. Keep it." She held out the case.

"Thanks." Jellal took it, allowing some of the unease he felt towards her to trail off. Maybe she was alright; Sienna thought so, and he trusted her, right? And she _had_ just saved him a lot of hassle. The makeup felt heavy on his face; he wanted to touch it but didn't. "While we're being amicable, tell me more about Silver."

"I can't," Natalie replied. "I don't have much to do with that."

He nearly called her a liar, feeling violent and impatient once more, but found some dregs of civility. There was a man that knew the answers to his questions.

The stairwell door opened and a slightly pudgy man with greying hair came through. He gave Jellal the filthiest look he'd ever seen then grabbed Natalie around the waist. "Ready?"

"As long as you're paying, love," she said, totally composed again. It was like a switch in her. She looked at Jellal. "Be careful tonight. And don't cause any trouble you can't get out of." She wiggled her fingers in a quick wave.

Jellal watched until they mounted the stairs to the twelfth floor, then started on his own path, navigating the stairs as quickly as he could manage. Each step that brought him closer to Julian meant that he was closer to confrontation and going back to the Vault. Closer to Madam Genève and all of her whores, the slaves and the willing alike. _Are any of them really ever willing_? She owned them all in some way.

The ground floor came up in a wash of sound and light. He pushed open the stairwell door and came onto Gomorrah's game floor. It was early enough, eight o'clock if the clock on the wall inside the seafood bar was to believed, but the casino was full. Jellal wondered how Innisfil kept it hopping like this, and then realized that there must have been people from out of town, too. Judging by some of the garb he saw, maybe even from the western continent, as well. Either Julian was very good at self-promotion or he already had a tall reputation.

The air was foggy with smoke, the smell making Jellal nauseous while the sounds of people winning and losing in the casino made him itch. Every time he passed a table he simultaneously wanted to stop and play then die when he saw people drinking and smoking there. He kept walking.

Despite his earlier assurances, Jellal wandered lost through Gomorrah for a good twenty minutes before he found the hallway belonging to Julian York's office. From there he searched for a tall, red doublewide doorway emblazoned with a complicated design.

He lifted his hand and knocked briskly.

"Come," Julian called from inside.

Jellal opened the door with some trepidation, half expecting to see the man he'd killed still slumped lifelessly in his chair. The office was completely clean without any trace of the blood left behind. _Did it not even happen?_ He wished he could say that, but he remembered too clearly scrubbing his hands for a solid five minutes, struggling to get the blood out from beneath his nails while Julian occupied the washroom with him, lounging against the counter smoking a thick, rich smelling cigar.

"Evening." Now Julian sat behind his large desk, a tray full of various breakfast things splayed out in front of him, fruit and bacon and croissants. It was the bacon that got Jellal most. He breathed shallowly from his mouth.

Julian said, "If you're going to puke, do it somewhere else. I had the cleaners in here already this morning from the fucking mess you made."

Hearing his violence affirmed by someone else's mouth sent him reeling. It was hard to recognize himself most days, but now… his reflection was blurrier than ever. "I'm fine."

"Yeah, heard that one before. Here, this'll help. Probably." Julian opened his desk drawer and pulled out a small container. He opened it then held it out in offering. Jellal peaked inside and saw several pills rolling around free, redder than blood.

"You expect me to take one of those?"

"I wouldn't offer if I thought you were just going to stare at them."

"What are they?" Jellal asked.

"Antinauseant, mostly."

"Mostly."

He shrugged. "I'm experimenting, trying to kill the aftereffects of something I've been working on. This helps, sometimes."

Jellal scrunched up his nose; he felt like shit, but he didn't trust Julian enough for that. "Something you've been working on, like Silver?"

Julian's brows went up. "And how is it that you know about that?"

"Lucky guess."

He shook his head. "There are only a few people that know about that, so I have to assume Natalie's decided she's got a big fucking mouth and Sienna's is even bigger."

"Does it matter?"

"Yes," he said automatically. "It's nice to know where your secrets are leaking out of, isn't it?"

Jellal was honest. Or… mostly. "Natalie tried to have some on her own last night. It made its way to Erza instead. I don't think it was her intent. As for your secrets… she wouldn't have spoken if I didn't… encourage her to." _Do you think protecting her makes up for the lives you've taken?_ Somewhat, maybe.

Julian's eyes flashed. "I don't think I have to explain what happens when my girls are threatened. You should understand."

 _Too well._ Jellal said, "I wanted the truth; it was the best way I knew to get it. Making drugs out of Silver Dragon… you must have a death wish."

Julian shook his head. "When processed correctly, the toxins can be removed—"

"It'll never be safe."

"Your girl is alive, isn't she?" Julian defied.

Jellal made a tight fist, coldly angry all over again. "I will say this once. If _any_ of that drug comes near her again—I will personally see to it that you can never make any more."

Julian got angry, then he got calm. The switch was disorienting, "You know, you're right, it was never supposed to be out in circulation. It's not ready yet, as I told Natalie. I'll speak with her."

It did actually pacify him. Jellal relaxed slightly.

Julian offered him the container of red pills again. "Now, to smooth things over, here is something to help with that hangover."

Jellal looked at it skeptically. "Maybe I'll pass."

"You insult me. At least take one with you, in case you regret that decision."

Jellal took one and jammed it into his pocket just to expedite getting out of there, in a rush to move because he was desperately thinking of excuses to stay.

Julian nodded, satisfied. "Good. Now, that unfortunate business aside, I wanted to talk to you about those lacrima. They're still coming nicely?"

The way he asked was pointed, like he only wanted one answer. _But which?_ Jellal didn't allow for looking off-balanced and rolled with his gut instinct. "I didn't get a chance to work on them last night. Or this morning." He didn't say _or at all._ He vowed to find somewhere to get blank crystals, heeding Natalie's warning. No, Sienna didn't do him any favours when she started lying to Julian York for him.

Instead of looking mad, Julian looked satisfied. He was definitely looking for a liar. _But I tell my lies the best._ And that's why he'd never be caught. "That's fair. Keep me appraised. As for tonight, I hope you'll prove to me you're not just a manic with a knife, Jellal. You told me you'd take Madam Genève's head, and I'm waiting."

"Soon," Jellal said, thinking of Adisa and Haya and whoever else Madam had hidden. "Getting close to her will take time; she's suspicious of you, and thusly of me."

"And so she should be. I'd be disappointed if she were in the position she was if she was a trustful sow. Give her a reason to be at ease," Julian said. "As quickly as you can."

No one wanted it to go off with less of a hitch than he did.

"Do you need anything?" Julian asked. "Money or drugs for bribes, weapons—"

His heart beat fast against his hollow-feeling chest, his mind recapturing the feeling of Illusion coursing through his veins. The feeling of a knife in his hand. There was nothing like it. His hallucination came back cripplingly fast. Erza's teeth, the blood. The mirror. _'Used to kill for a purpose.'_

"Jellal."

Julian called him back from the edge of a dark, dark place. He swallowed. "I don't need anything."

"Nothing at all?"

He shook his head.

Julian nodded. "Then hopefully we'll see each other tonight. Come back to my office. I'll make an effort to be available. Maybe we can even try out that new lacrima, if you have one ready?"

Jellal opened his mouth and lied again. "Of course."

* * *

There was a place in Innisfil, if you knew where to look, where a person of the right caliber might purchase virtually anything they could imagine. Located in the southern quadrant of the city where even the police didn't dare to go, an adventurous traveller could find their way to the district known as the Basement and, if they had enough cash, they could purchase almost anything their heart's desired. It was said that love couldn't be brewed into potions, but no one ever spoke of infatuation. It was said that magic couldn't raise the dead, but a spelled homunculus could pass. For awhile. There were even rumors of men learning the powers of the gods through lacrimas, though Jellal had only ever seen dragon slayers employ such tactics. He supposed, though, when he thought of it, no god slayer had ever expressly claimed that a deity had learned them.

As he walked he used the inside edge of the sleeve of his T-shirt to rub off the makeup Natalie doused him with. Out here, hiding would do him no favours. As soon as it was off his face he felt lighter, yet oddly enough also more burdened. It was easier in Magnolia and Crocus and Hargeon—anywhere really that was isolated from Innisfil. No one knew this mark served as chains for him for years and years. Now he was forced to weather both condemning (and in some cases considering) looks from town's people. If you wore the mark you were Madam's, and if you were Madam's, then anything was on the table as long as the price was right. Maybe Sienna _did_ have it good working for Julian York. At least he tried to protect his employees from that mentality. And who could argue with the action he took? Krane would never get the chance to decide he wanted to degrade Sienna or Erza again. He _deserved_ it.

 _Are you saying that to make yourself feel better for being so merciless?_ On the other hand, who the fuck cared?

A small alcove between two alley's made itself known, the shadows there blacker than in all the other places. Jellal approached cautiously. It had been a long, long time since he'd visited the Basement and he didn't know how the rules had changed, or if there even were any rules _left._

Stepping out of the weak glow of a streetlamp and into midnight's shadow, Jellal searched the night for the sentry. He found the augmented man a short distance away. For those not looking, he'd be a roll in the wall where the concrete was uneven, but to Jellal who'd known exactly where and _how_ to see through the illusion, finding him was simply difficult, not impossible.

"Lantos." The spell that hid his cap of unruly blonde hair was dismissed. The man waiting in its aftermath was tall and wide with muscle, his blue eyes sharp and familiar.

"What awaits the rising sun?" he asked.

"Always the moon and her sister stars," Jellal replied. "They are one. For while the sun has eyes, the night is her ears."

"Enter, brother."

* * *

In the room she was _apparently_ sharing with Jellal, Erza, dressed in a tank top and a pair of shorts, flicked back her sweaty, sun burnt hair. Movement helped exercise the lethargy she felt, and the sickness. Since Jellal left it got worse, to the point where she wanted to lay down and let herself suffer, but she refused to give into that notion. It was only after pushing her body through a regular exercise regime that she started to feel a little bit better.

"Were you a great warrior where you are from?" Sienna asked. Her own skin was slicked with sweat, her red hair damp on her brow. Her knuckles were red from where Erza had caught her hand again and again. Most of the punches she threw were sloppy and lacking conviction, but near the end she'd had a few that were enough to at least stun an attacker. It was time to end on a good note.

"You were, weren't you? I bet everyone knew your name. Erza Scarlet." The reverence was back in her voice.

Erza blushed, uncomfortable. It was strange being so far away from home, so completely _out_ of touch with everything. What was so important to Jellal in this faraway quadrant of Fiore? "I was renowned." She'd never had the chance at anonymity before and she didn't know how she felt about it. Sometimes it was nice being known, even if she was feared, and other times… she found herself wanting to just be treated like a normal person. After Fairy Tail disbanded, she hadn't stayed around Magnolia or the capitol to see how the tales of Fairy Tail's battle with Tartarus flourished and took a life of their own. She had no connection to anyone she knew, and no idea what was being said about her.

It was absolutely strange.

Absolutely liberating.

"And feared?" Sienna asked. Her eyes were slightly wide with a new kind of lust, the kind Erza recognized in her admirers. She wasn't new to the reaction, though every time she experienced it, it was humbling.

"There were few that dared to cross my path." And it seemed that those that did were always the most vicious. She never, ever got rest. Everyone was always testing her, trying her patience, seeing her strength. _One day there will be no fighting_. She'd almost thought that it was through when Fairy Tail disbanded. Of course she was sad. Cripplingly so. But there, in the darkest recesses of her mind, she wondered after the word _peace._ It was always out of reach, though. Long ago she'd resigned herself to a life of battle. She'd fought for every scrap of ground she'd gained, and she'd fight to keep it, too.

"Women like you… you get noticed," Sienna said. "And not just because you're beautiful. If you stay in Innisfil, people will know you again, Erza."

She couldn't imagine staying in this place. "Tell me why Jellal is here. What is your connection?"

Sienna nipped her bottom lip until it turned white, then shook her head. "I still can't. I'm sorry. Ask him. He'll tell you."

She'd seen the way he looked when she broached the subject days ago. The last time she'd seen Jellal frightened like that was when they were kids in the Tower of Heaven. It would take a lot of bravery for him to say and she couldn't imagine him allowing himself to be that vulnerable. _Even after last night?_ But it was a blur. Almost like they were different people. He still felt so far away, like though they'd been as intimate as they could have been, they didn't know each other at all. "He won't."

"Ask in the right way and you'll have your answer," Sienna said. "That man would tell you anything."

Erza fell into silence, thinking about love and questions. While she thought, Sienna rose.

"I need to shower then get to work. Thank you for the instruction." She looked like she meant it, too. "There are sometimes people aren't very nice to us," she admitted. "Julian offers us a lot of protection here at Casino Gomorrah, but…"

Erza understood completely. She never wanted to have to depend upon someone to protect her. Learning to fight her own battles was the best thing she'd ever done, and the _only_ good thing the Tower of Heaven had ever given to her.

 _Not Jellal_ , she pondered. But no, the Tower had taken him from her again and again. Sometimes she thought it still held him tightly.

"If you're looking for something to do, Erza," Sienna said, "There is a show tonight in the Thorn Lounge on the second floor. There will be dancing on stage, and singing, and there's food and a bar. It'll be a good time. If it's a good night and I can get out early, I'll find you, okay?"

Erza pushed her hair back again; it was matted and wet. "Tell me where the Vault is."

Sienna went several shades whiter. "The Vault? What for?"

"So I can do my own investigation," Erza responded. _Not_ so she could see what kinds of women Jellal was propositioning.

"I don't know where it is, but stay away from that place," Sienna said.

"I can handle myself—"

But Sienna was shuffling towards the door, single-minded in her escape.

Erza huffed, dissatisfied. "Suppose I'll find it on my own."

* * *

Erm. I was wrong. Next chapter will be more exciting. Or not. I don't know. Sorry it's been shitty. I'll try to do Erza better justice.


	15. Chapter 15

Jellal stepped towards the wall at the back of the alley fearlessly and moved straight through like there was no barrier there at all. The ancient brick bowed in like plastic stretched over a bowl then broke apart, depositing him in a different part of Innisfil, one lit only by gas lamps and bobbing blue magic fire that lined the street. In the firelight, the road, rumored to be made from ancient dragon bone, was drier than dust under his feet, the sounds of his boots brushing over the surface like crackling, depreciative laughter.

Smells came to him, cooking meat, frying corn, sweets. Alcohol, vomit. Blood. Not the blood that came from slicing a finger, or even from fatally cutting a man, but the blood that came deep from the heart of the body, the belly. It was organ blood, richer and thicker than the rest. There were things you could buy in the Basement that you could purchase nowhere else. The magic council and the king's guard would have a field day in this place where Jellal felt more than comfortable.

There was a reason men of the council locked him up for so long. There was a reason he was feared. Treading through places like this unafraid was only part of that.

To his left and right were stalls made from scuffed up two by fours, plywood, scraps. Some boards looked like they were pulled out of Silver River, some looked weather worn, left to rot in the sun for years and years before they found a home in this little-seen crevasse of the city. There were tents, too, their canvas was torn and bleached, enclosing a myriad of baubles, most illegal.

 _Snap, snap, snap,_ his boots over the cobblestones. Eyes followed his movements, more than he saw, all of them curious, none of them friendly. Magic played under his skin, his knife weighed heavy in his hand, still hidden in the pocket of his white coat. He breathed evenly. In the Basement, any show of weakness was an invitation. Sometimes even when you walked with your shoulders squared, men and women saw an opportunity to pickpocket. Just as Jellal thought that, a man slipped from the shadows. His hair was long and dark, nearly black, slightly wavy. He wore a well-used coat that fell past his thighs, it's leather faded by the firelight but still in good condition.

"Good evening." His eyes lingered on Jellal's tattoo.

Jellal looked at him warily. "Evening."

"It's not too often one sees one of Madam Genève's this far into the city,"

Jellal smiled falsely. "Then you never look closely enough." Her people were literally everywhere—or they had been when he was young, flitting in and out of the cracks in the walls, listening to conversations they shouldn't be then disappearing into the dark once more so Madam could hear the secrets and further strengthen her stronghold. He didn't imagine the tiger changed her stripes in the years since he'd been gone.

The man's teeth were straight and white, his smile one Madam would call _magnifique_. "Perhaps. There are always ears to listen in Innisfil, isn't there? I suspect you're not out hunting for the latest gossips, though, are you?" He touched Jellal's forearm softly, an unmistakable look in his eye. "What does Madam charge these days for a man such as you?"

Jellal's palms itched. He wanted to tell the man it wasn't what it looked like, that he wasn't one of Madam's, now or ever before, that he wasn't lurking through the streets as one of her whores, but lies and appearances were everything, weren't they? And if she heard that he was denying association with her, there was no way she was going to believe that he wanted to come home.

"I am not for sale." He hated himself. He hated Madam Genève.

"Oh?" His eyes lit up. "Did I misidentify your tattoo?"

Jellal licked his suddenly dry lips. "No, Monsieur."

"Someone from the Basement has purchased your company? Or perhaps you're on your way to the Aurum district? I hear tell there is a grand hotel there holding many beautiful people." He smiled just a little too wide. "Do you know anything about that, sir?"

Jellal's heart sank, a feeling in his gut, one that was a certainty. He was being baited. "I—no. I have a previous engagement."

"Pity. But perhaps you can still help me with something. These days it's hard to know who to go to, the newcomer or the old hand. Madam has been around Innisfil for a long, long time. Giving her my business would be the logical choice. But Julian York offers something she does not. _Integrity_ , oui?"

"I know nothing of Julian York," Jellal said. It wasn't even a lie. "But I can speak for Madam. Call her what you will, she is at least forward with her values." The devil you know.

The man wasn't put off. "True. Well, perhaps then a kiss would help decide whom I should be giving my funds to, Madam Genève or Julian York. Will you indulge me?"

Jellal had been around Innisfil long enough to recognize a trap laid by Madam Genève when he saw one. This man was too well dressed for the Basement while still being entirely too comfortable there. He wasn't what he appeared to be. "Of course." Jellal could hardly believe he said that. _Take it back, before you can't. Before you do this and it becomes too easy to keep doing it_.

He told himself that it would never, ever happen, that Madam would never own him again because he never _wanted_ to be owned again.

The man smiled and stepped closer, his fingers closing around Jellal's wrist tightly. They saw eye-to-eye. Jellal's heart ached. It had been a long time since he'd been in this position, well, well before he wore the face of a confident man. Staring at the one before him now, he felt himself slipping towards lunacy while he watched control speed away. It wasn't the action itself that had him burning to run, but what it represented, the loss of his dignity, the loss of his freedom. There is no freedom in this world. How true. How tragically, beautifully true. His fingers dug into the knife's handle in his pocket. It would take such little effort to kill this man and prove that he wasn't at Innisfil's or Madam's mercy any longer. _And his body_? Why bother covering up the act in the Basement? Someone would come along and harvest him for whatever it was they needed. No one would say a word. Well, maybe the man's partner that was surely watching them then, monitoring Jellal's every move _just in case_.

 _You can kill them, too, and anyone else that sees._ But as his reflection asked, where was the line? How much was too much? What was for a purpose and what was for want? Such a dangerous, precarious ledge he tottered on. _What if you've already fallen over_? If that were the case, then was there any sense in _not_ killing. _Is this what the bottom of that crevasse looks like_? _Vast, empty, save for blood? Can you do nothing else?_

While the man stepped into him, laying their bodies chest-to-chest, Jellal thought of scarlet and death. Black and blood and red. Erza.

 _You can do this_. He wasn't sure if he was psyching himself up for the kill or the kiss, and he wouldn't know until it happened, either. The breeze grabbed the man's hair and made it brush over Jellal's hand. It was then he realized that he'd grabbed him. The knife was in his fingers, but not in the man's body. The stranger hadn't realized his danger yet. Jellal swallowed and met his eyes. Maybe he was Madam Genève's, but that didn't necessarily make him guilty. His hold on the knife loosened and he encouraged himself to do what needed to be done to get close to the witch.

Kissing another man was strange. He didn't love it, but nor did he hate it. Stubble brushed his, coarser than his own after his shave. A rough palm cupped his face. Hot breath broke over his skin. Jellal was catapulted back in time to a place where this was the norm, where he was the favorite and the only nights he had off were the nights where he was too sick to work. Sometimes those nights came frequently, up too late in Madam's gambling rooms, sneaking drinks from customers so he could feign ill just so he didn't have to face the next day. When he was caught he was punished. Thus he learned the trick, never to be caught, and to always, always lie if he were.

Lips brushed. Teeth pinched. A tongue skimmed his. And that was it. The pressure was gone from his mouth, the body moved away.

"Who should I tell Madam I spoke with?" the man asked. His eyes were heavy-lidded, his voice sort of segmented. Like maybe he'd actually enjoyed the kiss a bit.

Jellal's mouth only felt like it was burning. He thought about saying 'Why bother with the lie when I know that you too belong to her?' but refrained. "You may call me Jellal."

"And I am Noe. Hopefully, we'll see more of each other, Jellal." He turned then and strolled away as if nothing had happened. Jellal watched him until his brunette hair blended in with the shadows and he was only a dark smudge moving through a blackened landscape.

Alone once more, he felt like the walls were closing in on him. _It's okay. You knew. You knew she'd push you. You knew if you couldn't kill her fast enough and you had to stick around that she'd test you. You knew she'd try to see if you'd break your act._

She was going to have to try much harder than that.

Jellal pushed his hair back from his forehead and straightened his coat. The power over his appearance helped provide a sense of control. His shoulders rolled back, a practiced blank, uncaring look overcame his features. He turned from where he'd met Noe and started towards his original goal.

A woman with knotted hair leaned against her mossy booth, a wide mirror at her knees. Jellal's eyes were drawn to his reflection. The face that looked back moved separately from his own.

"You didn't kill him."

' _Not everyone has to die,_ ' he thought silently. Maybe he was insane, but he didn't have to look it, talking to his reflection, did he?

"You know she'll just send someone else now, right? She'll really push you. She'll want to see how far you're willing to take this game to hold up your facade."

 _'I'll play until I'm close to her_.'

"She'll never let you in."

' _Then I'll play until I break_.' He corrected himself. ' _Until_ she _breaks_.' But no, he had it right the first time. He moved past the mirror so he didn't get to hear the response.

A huge tent came into view, its canvas walls choked by thorny black raspberry vines. A light was on inside, flickering through the walls like a weak wisp. Even at this distance, he could smell the putrid mint that accompanied rot. Though the tent's owner burned incense after incense, there was no covering that particular aroma. Jellal's guts twisted. Maybe this man was one that was more monstrous than he. There was no way he'd let the ancient priest know he was unnerved, though.

Rough canvas slid over his fingers; the tent peeled back to reveal the innards. The room was crowded, choked by portable tables stocked with a hundred different mason jars, bunches of dried herbs hanging from every available space, skins draping off the walls, set to dry. Some of them were regular animals, some of them were magical, some of them looked too pale, too humanoid. Jellal kept his eyes away from those.

"It has been a long, long time since you've wandered these alleys. To what do I owe the honour, Mr. Fernandez?" drawled a steady voice thick with an accent that belonged not in Innisfil, but somewhere hot, where cards told fortunes and vendors brimmed on every street corner. Where the underground was lively and the barefaced sinners outweighed those brave enough to beg for forgiveness.

Jellal searched and thought he found the man hidden behind a beaded curtain, an entrance into a room where he didn't dare go. "Not long enough. However, here I am. I'm looking for something I think you can provide."

"Ah, crystals to protect a sinning man." He chuckled.

"Not a sinning man," Jellal clarified. "But a woman that tells her lies not as well as I tell mine." He couldn't care less about Julian York. Sienna, however... if she was going to tell lies he felt an obligation to at least make sure that her lies were sound.

"Yes. I see now." Jellal imagined the priest smiled while he spoke. "And now you need lacrima to cover up the truth. You are no business man. You are a sinner, Mr. Fernandez. You are a freed whore who has lost his way. You are a man adrift at sea, asking to be kindled in a kiln of red."

Jellal swallowed, his throat tiny. "If I wanted perspective, I'm sure I wouldn't come to you."

The priest hiccoughed a laugh. "I imagine I am one of the few brave enough to offer you perspective, Mr. Fernandez."

How true was that? "Can you give me the lacrima or not?"

"I can," he agreed. "For a price."

"Name it," Jellal responded. There were other ways to come across lacrima, but none so well made, none so easily accessed.

"As you know, in the Basement, there's only one form of currency that means much of anything, isn't that right?"

"Magic," Jellal responded.

"Blood," the priest corrected.

He was good at paying in blood. "Whose?"

"Yours," the man answered. "Just a drop."

Jellal looked at those tinkering wooden beads warily. He wished he could see the man's face, but he knew that all he'd be looking at were cold, white eyes, a face painted like a skull's. The priest never showed his true visage. There were some in the Basement that claimed it was because he was horrifically disfigured. Some said it was because he was no longer human. Some still claimed it was so no one would ever remember the face of the devil.

Jellal knew which story he believed. Every single one of them.

"Very well."

A dark skinned hand slipped from between the beads and beckoned him forward. Jellal crossed the dirt bottomed tent and placed his hand in the priests. The other man's skin was cold and clammy, like a cloth soaked in morning dew. Though Jellal was curious, he knew better than to peel back the beaded curtain and look when he hadn't been invited to. His hand was drawn in. Out of sight of his favorite killing appendage, Jellal felt war torn. Every instinct was telling him to retreat, to leave the rotten false priest with all of his dark trinkets and never return. That was fear, though, not logic, and he'd promised himself long ago to never be fooled by fear.

A hot prick in his finger relayed the priest's motions. Blood, warm and wet, leaked out of his hand and dropped into whatever container the man had held beneath. One drop, two. A millimeter, four. Jellal felt magic tugged out of his body next. Magicloss made him dizzy. Too much. The priest was a greedy man; nothing had changed.

He held out for another thirty seconds, flexing his fingers and counting slowly. Finally, when he felt like he could take no more, he said, "That's enough." His voice didn't shake; he counted that as a victory.

"Yes," the man behind the curtain said after a pregnant pause. "I suppose you're right." The bleeding slowed, the magic drain stalled. Jellal's head spun. The priest asked, "What could I sell, Mr. Fernandez, to convince you to give me more? What is your magic worth?"

Jellal had heard of the priest taking magic from mages, stealing it straight from their bodies. "The only fate that awaits mages willing to give up what they are is death, and I am not yet ready for that walk."

He actually sighed, disappointed. "Very well. Our deal." He pinched Jellal's wrist, keeping it where it was, stretched into the darkened room. A small handful of marble sized orbs were dropped into his hand, each colder than ice. Jellal clenched his fingers.

"Gently, Mr. Fernandez."

Jellal took his hand out of the priest's grasp and pulled it into the moderately lighter main room. Immediately he wished he hadn't. Blank, unseeing pupils looked back at him. the orbs looked neither solid nor white, their flesh soft between Jellal's fingers. A sharp whine was born in his throat. He closed his eyes, gathering his resolve. _It's not real. It's not real._ He wasn't foolish enough to _actually_ believe that, though. This priest was known for his waltzes into the unorthodox.

"Something the matter, Mr. Fernandez?" There was laughter in the other man's voice.

Jellal _made_ himself look. The iris' and the pupils were gone, the balls just clear lacrima blank of any spells. No seeping eyes. "You're a sick man."

"No one ever said anything about men, Mr. Fernandez. You and me… we're monsters. It's been a pleasure."

 _Always the monster_. With the lacrima in his hand, Jellal hurried out of the tent, the sound of the priest's laugh chasing him through the streets.

He was out of the twisting alleys, slipping past the sentry and out into Innisfil's proper in no time. The moon was hidden behind a huge cloud; the air smelled like rain again. He walked fast towards the Vault. The Basement dissipated like a bad dream, the only thing that chased him now were the orbs that he stuffed in his pocket. He could feel the magic ability lying dormant in their bodies. They would accept any spells he bestowed, rather happily at that. The only thing now was to determine how he was going to make them anti-magic lacrimas. There were spells, of course, to deflect magic. The trick was giving them longevity.

While he pondered on that, he slipped his finger into his mouth and sucked back the still trickling blood. His magic felt depleted. He didn't even entertain what it was the priest wanted with it. It could be any number of things or nothing at all. Who knew?

Eyes watched him, more than usual, though they were hidden in the cruxes of buildings, girls and boys that thought they couldn't be seen nor detected. Madam was slipping, if she thought this level of surveillance was acceptable. _Or perhaps you're just better now than you were the last time you spent any time in Innisfil._ It was a nice thought, one he logically _knew_ was true, though he couldn't help but think he'd never be properly prepared to face Madam Genève again.

 _And if she sees you tonight?_ He half wished she wouldn't. _Don't think like that, it could be over._ To fortify his resolve, he thought of the boys at the Hive, the ones that had been purchased together by her assistant. _Where are they now_? They could be dead for all he knew, strangled and forgotten in the bottom of Scarlet Lake, or bled dry of all of their essence for the most addicting drug and thrown away like so much garbage.

The Vault's brick and stone front seeped from the darkness, illuminated by its lightly glowing luminous shrubs. The blood red walk looked particularly ominous, a false sea of shifting temptation. The forget-me-nots were cheerful, blue petals gleaming. Jellal brushed his hands through his hair again, so nervous he could die.

The door came up fast. He summoned every ounce of courage he had, borrowing from tomorrow's, too, and opened it. Again, it was like stepping into a new world, one that smelled like vanilla and leather and sweat and love. Bodies were draped on couches, one small girl with hair so blonde it was nearly white, lay against the floor, her Vault tattoo still fresh enough that her cheek was red. Madam had replaced Ingin, then. Pity. The girl tipped her head back. She was young enough that she still had baby fat on her cheeks but old enough to have breasts. Her eyes followed his movements.

She was so new she didn't get up and proposition herself like Madam would have taught.

Jellal looked away. There was only one woman he was interested in seeing here.

Dark skin wrapped in a sheer silver Abayah sashayed into the main room. He looked up her lithe body, over the swell of her hips, the mounds of her breasts, the elegant line of her neck, to her sharp black eyes. They flashed, not exactly _surprised_ to see him, but _disappointed._ Haya wore black lipstick tonight, a colour rich enough to match her midnight-dark hair. It was difficult to see through her shawl, but it looked fine like spider's silk, an inky river. It would be better if it were scarlet, but he could appreciate onyx.

"Sayidi, are you a foolish man?"

"I want to see her," Jellal said. His legs felt like they were quaking, though he didn't move.

"She will not see you."

"Try," Jellal begged.

Haya sighed. "Your path will lead you to a dark place."

 _I'm always there_ , Jellal thought. As long as Madam Genève existed, he would be suffocated beneath her shadow. The knife in his pocket was a weight against his leg, comforting. He didn't dare touch it, for fear of being attacked before he even had a chance to see her.

"Please."

Haya lifted her hand and touched his bruised temple. It hurt, but not as much as it would have if Wilbur Red didn't heal it. "You are not what you say you are, Sir. I can see it, which means Madam can see it, too. Leave, before Adisa is called again. This time, the message to Mr. York will be scrawled in blood."

A new voice joined the conversation. "Haya."

Jellal took his eyes away from the raven haired woman and found a man in the back of the room. Dark haired, dark eyed, with a scruff of a beard that looked several days old, he wore a plain black dress shirt and black dress pants. On his feet weren't dress shoes, but practical work boots, polished. He wasn't a whore, though. He wore the mark of one of her enforcers, a tattoo similar to Jellal's, though only spanning the space _above_ his eye. He leaned against the door leading to one of the pleasure rooms, this one different than the last, and fingered the smouldering cigarette in his hand. "Madam Genève asked me to see to him."

Haya was pale when she turned. " _Iblis._ " Devil, spoken with respect but mostly fear. Jellal recognized it, having heard it plenty of times in his life. First from his underlings at the Tower of Heaven, then as a ten wizard saint in the magic council. Part of him longed to be spoken to like that again, and wasn't that a shame? There was a _reason_ , as much as he hated to admit it, that Ultear had been able to play him so well. He'd been helpless for _so_ _fucking long_ that the escape, the _power_ she dangled in front of him, was far, far too tempting. Hubris. It lifted and chained.

The one she called _iblis_ raised his hand and beckoned Jellal through the room. Haya didn't say another word, which perhaps was more unsettling than the look in the man's eye. Jellal tread through droves of beautiful people. A woman with teal hair and a tattoo like his watched him with interest, her breasts spilling out of a golden corset. Another woman, this one without any markings, saw him and didn't look away.

"How much?"

"Not this one, Mrs. Cofy," spoke the man with the cigarette. "He's... Occupied."

Jellal pretended the best he knew how, smiling, acting like he wasn't nervous as fuck, pretending like he wasn't on the edge of a very violent outburst. "Perhaps we'll meet again."

The woman pouted. "I'll pay extra."

Jellal didn't wonder what it was about him that made people want to go the extra mile. Again, hubris was a dangerous thing. "Next time."

She huffed and found somewhere else to sniff.

The smoking man reached behind himself and opened the door, revealing a room that was flecked gold and silver. The floors, the walls, bright and gleaming in the pale light of the two lamps set up on either side of the room. Unlike the room he'd visited last night, this one had a large bed that had been occupied only moments before. Cigarette butts were crushed in the ashtray on the nightstand, tall fluted glasses were empty. Who knew what was in them? Whatever it had been, it left a thin residue on the delicate glassware.

The door closed, locking Jellal and the man in together. Jellal turned, tense.

"Hardly a day's gone past, and here you're back again. You must be really stupid, or really tenacious," the man spoke.

"I want to see Madam Genève," Jellal said. "I'm not leaving until I speak with her."

The man shrugged. "She's not here."

"You're lying." A liar knew a liar.

He hauled on his cigarette. The smoke burned Jellal's nose. "I take offense to that."

Jellal clenched his jaw. "Get her."

The man pointed with the fingers pinching his cigarette. "I'll tell you something about this room. It's soundproofed so while we're in here, no one out there is going to hear you scream."

Sweat pricked on his brow. He didn't _want_ to be caged. _Be calm. You're still in control._ "I don't plan on doing much of that tonight. I know she's wary of me appearing once again, but if you just let me talk to her, she'll see that my want to return is genuine."

The man laughed. "You're fucking funny, man. Hilarious." Jellal felt a strange sensation building between his ears. His head pulsed, like a migraine but not. The man spoke again. "I have no doubt you want to be here. It's just not for whore work. Even if I couldn't see what kind of a liar you are first hand, I would know. No one that leaves comes back."

"That's—"

His head hurt then, so much that he couldn't finish his sentence. So much that he felt sick, so much that his vision blurred. His mouth watered. For the second time, he felt like chucking up his guts. Images flew through his mind, memories tugged violently to the surface with little context. The Vault. The Tower of Heaven before and after Ultear. Simon. And the killing. So much blood. So much suffering.

By the time Jellal realized that the man was going through his head, he'd already found something to latch onto. Erza in the Tower of Heaven. Erza kneeling with him, accepting death if it meant they went together. But it wasn't death for her, not yet. First, it was giving her to Zeref. And if that didn't work, he was more than happy to end her himself and find someone new. He relived it all once, then again, the images starting back at the beginning with some key changes in the occurring events. This time, when it came time for her to die, he looked into her large brown eyes, memorized the tears he saw there, and whispered into her ear, "I was a monster before I was a man." Then the knife glided over her throat. The blood that came out was warm. He bathed in it like a madman, torn apart so effortlessly by rage and insanity. Again and again, he cut Erza to pieces. Sometimes he kissed her while it happened. Sometimes he was too violent.

Despite his assurances, he started screaming and couldn't stop until the scenes halted and blackness took over. Now he knew why Haya called this man a devil.

"Wow," the _iblis_ drawled. The back of Jellal's eyelids had never looked so dark. "You sure are a broken toy, aren't you?"

Jellal's mouth felt dry. _Open your eyes._ It was so hard. The sound of the door opening and closing came to him. Someone else entered the room.

"And, Eli?" The voice gave Jellal chills. He could still feel her fingers sliding through his hair, the sensation mixed up with want and hate. Would he always feel that way? Repulsed but, as the man said, broken enough to want it?

She spoke again, her voice like scalding caramel. "Is this lion as tame as he says he is?" _Li-on_ , not lion. "Does he truly want to come home?"

Jellal's breath came out of his lungs in short bursts. _Madam Genève_. He couldn't open his eyes to look upon her beautiful and terrible face.

Eli spoke. "More than anything, he wants to belong to himself."

"Then why iz he here?" Her smooth hands cupped Jellal's face. _Kill her_ , He struggled to move his body, but his mind wouldn't send the proper signals. "Sent by mon amour, Julian?"

Eli, the devil, the _iblis_ , hmmed. Jellal's head got hot again. Unbidden, memories surfaced. Julian York bursting into his room, guns exposed, accusing him of trying to sell Sienna to the highest bidder at the Hive. Julian York sitting in his office, casually watching a man get his fingers broken repeatedly while he had a conversation with Jellal. Julian York picking at breakfast, then offering Jellal a small, red pill. Julian York sitting on the patio behind Gomorrah, having dinner with a brunette.

All of the memories went by at breakneck speed, except for the last. It slowed and focused where Jellal had not while it was happening. Natalie was fuzzy in his mind's eye, but she was there, smiling sultry like. Through the strange connection spanning between him and Eli, he felt the man seize and knew, though he didn't know Natalie, he immediately _wanted_ to. Jellal couldn't tell _why._

 _Who is she_? The words came sliding into Jellal's brain. He was thrown back into a time where he thought Zeref whispered to him. The temptation to press his hands against his temples and scream until he was hoarse was overwhelming. Still, his body wouldn't obey. The whine couldn't be suppressed, though.

"Eli?" Madam Genève asked again. "Does he belong to Julian or not?"

There was a long pause, then Eli said, "I can't tell his purpose here."

"You can't tell?" she repeated.

Jellal didn't hear Eli's response but imagined the man shaking his head. _What games does he play_?

The voice came into his head again. _The kind where you stay alive for another few minutes, maybe._

"I can't get a read on him, Madam," Eli said aloud.

"Why? It's never been an issue before." Her voice took on that furious tone, the one that said punishment was coming if you displeased her again.

Eli didn't disappoint. "Sometimes it happens. Someone's already been in his head, fucking him up."

A sharp crack told Jellal Eli had been slapped. "Language, Eli. You forget yourself."

"Merci, Madam," Eli muttered.

 _Thank you for the punishment_. No harsh language in Madam's presence. She fancied herself a lady. Jellal tried to move again. He was able to flex his fingers and call his magic before Eli realized that he was trying to get up. The mental attack came fast and hard, pain so strong Jellal gagged. Intense images buffeted him.

Suddenly, the worst moments of his life came rushing up: welcoming into his body what he thought, at the time, was Zeref. Condemning Erza, forcing her to leave the Tower of Heaven. The moment he regretted that decision. Coming back for her when she was a woman. Tying her up. Making her hurt. The urge to love and kill her all twisting up so _everyfuckingbreath_ was burning with torment. The radical urge to die just so they could be together. _Zeref. Zeref. Zeref._

 _Gods._

 _Fuck._

 _I'm dying._

He didn't realize he was both crying and screaming until Eli eased and Madam's fingers found his cheeks.

"What happened to you, sweet Jellal? And why have you returned?"

Eli's breath was short like he too was disturbed by what was in Jellal's mind. "Should I kill him?"

 _Like I'm a stray dog needing to be put down_ , Jellal thought wildly. He tried to move again and felt bile rise in his throat. He ceased.

She ignored Eli for the time being. "Jellal," her voice turned sweeter than honey. "Jellal, sweet boy." Her fingers touched his mouth, her mouth his ear. "I've dreamed of your _magnifique_ smile. When you come back to this place, I almost believe that you want to be mine again. I ponder, can you not take freedom when it is given to you? But even a rodent knows when to run. I must believe that you are here to trick me. Rest assured, nothing so much has changed. I still do not enjoy games of such nature."

 _There is no freedom in this world._

"I never wanted you to die. I loved you the most, Jellal, but if you don't stop... I'll have no choice."

"You're not going to kill him? Why?" Eli asked.

"Because, Eli, if he does belong to Julian York, I am not so interested in starting a war. Our peace is precarious enough as it is." Her fingers lingered around Jellal's mouth, tracing where his smile would have been, then slid down his chest. Something soft and fragrant was deposited in the hollow between his pectorals. Without looking, he knew it was her signature rose. Her lips found his in a light kiss. Jellal would have recoiled if he could. Finally, she sat back. "Take him, Eli. Drop him somewhere he won't soon forget. Perhaps a place where Julian York will find him."

"Yes."

The sound of her heels clicking away came to Jellal's ears. The door opened and closed again. Something smooth pressed into his temple.

"Get up."

Jellal felt like a fraying rope had been cut. Suddenly he was able to move again. His eyes opened. There was a gun against his head, its barrel colder than winter. He was unafraid. All of the magic that had been welling in his body pricked and fought for release. He let it come, welcoming its vast tide. It ballooned wide, enough energy to kill and destroy. Eli, the _iblis_ , was going to be no more. Jellal's heart kicked with manic excitement. More than necessary. Killing should never feel good. _And then Madam._ He would tear the place apart looking for her and wouldn't stop until she was gone.

Eli sucked in a breath. Blackness filled the room. And then...

And then...

Nothing. The magic was swallowed in a deafening gulp. The silence that followed was lingering. Jellal blinked in confusion, hollowed out by his spell and its sudden failure. What the _hell_ happened? Eli stood over him, a dark look on his face.

"Asshole."

Jellal got to know what a steel toe boot felt like on the side of his head. It wasn't great. Blackness followed the attack, and then the worst nightmares he'd ever had.

 _Iblis_ indeed.


	16. Chapter 16

An unseasonable coldness filled the air. Erza, dressed in her familiar armour, navigated Innisfil's strange streets, wishing for Magnolia, or Crocus, or _anywhere_ she could have called hers. She felt out of place in this town, an outsider.

With every step her armour squealed noisily. She entertained shucking it off for something quieter, cloth would be rather silent, but was reticent to be so exposed. Innisfil hadn't given her a very kind welcome thus far. Drugged, caught by slavers, then held at gunpoint and finally, drugged again.

"Yeah, this is a great place," she muttered, frustrated with herself and the city and Jellal for coming here and insisting on staying.

She picked out eyes watching her on every street corner and knew for certain that there were plenty that she _couldn't_ see as well. She kept her hand on her change purse and had her magic just at her fingertips. Any sword she summoned would be razor sharp and would come to her hand quickly.

She walked past a bakery closed for the evening, a community kitchen beside a bustling bar beside a convenience store, beside community housing. She went left at a cross roads and watched that part of Innisfil fade. A richer part was birthed. The entertainment district, Erza decided when she saw a sign for a place called The Black Cat. Woman made of light were stamped in the windows, their bodies twisted into provocative poses. She didn't need anyone to translate what that meant. A strip club. _'A gentleman's club'_ Sienna had called the one in Gomorrah. A wild fantasy of stepping on stage and giving Jellal a private show flashed through her mind. She wondered if that was something he'd enjoy. Her cheeks got hot.

 _Ridiculous._ She _did_ have to wonder what he was thinking, though. If that was something he would be in to or if he regretted last night. If _she_ did.

 _Yes. No._

It didn't happen the way she thought it would whenever she _bothered_ to entertain such things. _Let's be honest_ , she told herself, _I didn't think it would ever happen at all_. And this evening he'd been odd when she'd come into the bathroom. Scared. _Because he was sick,_ she mused. But no, he'd been that way since he'd found her in that horrible place. _'I was a monster before I was a man_.' She couldn't shake away the vague image of him standing over that man, wearing that dead eyed expression. It gave her chills, made her giddy in a way she was reluctant to put name to, afraid of what she'd discover about herself if she did.

The strip club passed, then several more bars of better repute. They made way for other buildings. Some houses. Most not. A post office. A shop that sold glass hookahs. An expensive looking clothing store with the most beautiful black dress made of lace and thin chain Erza had ever seen. Her heart panged with want. If it was open and she _weren't_ trying to find Jellal, she'd go in there and try it on. She kept on walking. Next came a restaurant that was full to bursting. A woman with dark skin and short dark hair smoking a long cigarette leaned against the wall outside. There was a child at her side, one with a crown of golden ringlets.

"I found us a table, Miss Dee," the child was saying. As Erza passed, her blue eyes found Erza and lingered.

"Thank you, Fiona." The woman's hand found the child's shoulder. "Come inside."

"I'm going to tell Mr. Morgan we're ready," the girl said. "I'll be in shortly."

"Very well."

The child waited until the door closed then said in a high, clear voice. "I know you."

Erza stopped and looked over her shoulder. The girl was in a white frilled dress that fell down to her smart looking shoes, polished black leather so shiny the restaurant's visage reflected in their surface.

"We've never met before."

"Yes," the girl said. "At the Hive."

Erza stiffened. "What?"

She nodded, gold curls bouncing on her shoulders. "We were together when they were auctioning us off, remember? You beat one of the men for touching me. That's why they put you in chains."

 _Remember_? No, she did _not._ The only thing that was truly clear about that time was the man she'd been beneath _before_ she ended up in that place. The man that wore Jellal's face. And, she supposed, bits and pieces of his killer. Purple. It stuck in her mind like glue. "I don't really recall."

"Madam Genève was going to buy you. She sent one of her people there to scout for the nicest girls. They wanted you for the colour of your hair." The child stepped closer. "I was too plain for a woman like her. I was so jealous."

"Jealous?" Erza repeated.

She nodded. "I thought, if I must be bought, then I wish to be bought by her. She takes care of her slaves as long as they behave. She feeds and clothes them and even lets them into her gambling rooms once in awhile. Sometimes the things she does is unorthodox, but I thought I would at least stand a chance of buying out my indenture with her. I wake up every morning now thankful that was not the way my fortune played. Miss Dee is my mistress now, and she does not require me to do the things Madam Genève would. I see you're not wearing her mark either, though. Did someone buy your freedom?"

 _Her mark_? "Something like that," Erza agreed. She seemed to know an awful lot about Madam Genève. "Are you from this city?"

Elusive, the girl said, "I suppose that would depend on why you're asking."

"I need to get to the Vault," Erza explained.

The girl's eyes sparked. "Why would you want to go to that place?"

Erza said, "I'm looking for someone."

"If they are one of hers, they will always be. Let it go before you find yourself back at her mercy." She started to turn away now, going towards the alley between restaurants.

"Wait." Erza caught her arm and pulled her up short. Her skin was soft and malleable, lacking of muscle or scars unlike her own. "Tell me what you know."

The girl twisted her wrist. "You're hurting me. Miss Dee will be unhappy."

Erza loosened her hold. "I'm sorry. Just tell me where to find it."

The girl hesitated. "I can't because I don't know, but there may be a man that does. I've heard he knows about things like this. Some say he deals with Julian York, some say Madam Genève. He's still alive, so I suspect he deals with neither directly. All the same. maybe he could help you find the place."

"Where do I find him?"

"Ringwood Street. He sets up behind the Black Cat and sells."

"Sells?"

She rolled her eyes. "Drugs, then he uses the money to buy dances. And other things. I've heard Miss Dee refer to him as Griswold."

Erza felt totally ignorant standing next to this girl. What was she, like eleven? Not that much younger than Wendy, but here she was talking about drugs and lap dances. It was a totally different world here. "Thank you. About your indenture to this Dee woman—I don't believe in slavery. I will right the wrong—"

"I'm not Miss Dee's slave," she returned. "I am her partner. She pays me well for my magic. Now. Goodbye." She gathered up the pleated folds of her white dress, pulled out of Erza's grasp and disappeared down the alley, gathering the men like she told the other woman she would.

It felt wrong to let her go, but that's what she did. Erza looked over her shoulder. The Black Cat's signs were still visible, red and green and purple. She sighed and went back the way she came.

* * *

The music was so loud pouring out of the bricks surrounding the Black Cat that Erza could feel it pounding through the floor, vibrating up into her boots and shaking her knees with every throbbing baseline. The alleyway between the strip club and its neighboring restaurant was dirt-filled. Cigarette butts stained with various colours of lipstick, broken glass, gum wrappers, takeout containers, plastic drink cups. Condoms. Everything. Erza stepped carefully, thankful for her leather boots but disappointed that she'd have to clean them.

Gross.

The air smelled like piss and garbage, the sweet heady smell that drifted from dumpsters, the smell of rotting food and bathroom waste. It was a very particular scent unique to cities.

The Black Cat's wall terminated, depositing her on a small square of concrete. Overhead on the back of the building was an orange light. Moths flew around its sun-bright surface, fluttering like crazy trying to reach a false moon. On the ground was a cacophony of their corpses when they literally flew themselves to death. Several people hung around out back, most of them strippers. A girl with head of cherry pink hair smoked something from a bowl. It smelled like chemical, and the smoke that left her mouth was bright, bright white, the contrast stark when compared to her black as pitch robe. There was a vague dopy smile on her face and her eyes were glossier than the surface of a pearl. Erza held her breath as the cloud came to her.

Beside the cherry haired girl was a brunette. She wore a lot less in a leopard print bra and matching short-shorts. "Is it good tonight?" she whispered to her friend. The other girl took a deep drag then brought her mouth to the brunettes and passed the smoke between them. There was a flash of tongue and long contact. Erza flushed, her own mouth burning from a distant memory.

 _Just hurry up and get out of here._ "Excuse me."

The girls startled apart. The brunette, the soberer of the two, found Erza. She laughed when she saw her armour. "Is there a battle I'm not aware of?"

Erza set her mouth in a hard line, sort of embarrassed and furious that they made her feel that way. "I'm looking for someone." It seemed like she was _always_ looking for someone lately. "A gentleman by the name of Griswold. I'm told he frequents this establishment."

Cherry hair grinned. "Grissy? He's with Audrey right now, isn't he?"

The brunette nodded and pointed beyond the Black Cat's parking lot. The place was dark, save for the vague outlines of a few carriages and their horses. "They went back there. They should be done—"

Erza was already on the move, ignoring what the woman had to say.

It was quiet out there away from the club, so much so in fact it was like stepping into a different world. Erza, senses on high alert, scanned the dark. There were ten carriages in all. Three of them had drivers sitting on the bench seat, men that picked idly at their nails, smoked cigars or daydreamed looking at the sky. Six more were seemingly unoccupied. The seventh, way, way at the back of the parking lot, was marked by the cherry of a cigarette. Erza focused on it and closed the distance, mindful of pot holes topped with muddy water.

The smell of cigarette smoke invaded her nose, stale and burning. Giggling came to her ears, and a soft sigh. A grunt that was guttural when it reached its peak came last. The sound made Erza's head rush with unidentified panic. Then the figures came into view. A man with a grizzled face mostly obscured by a bowler hat slouched on the bench of the carriage, a blonde woman kneeling between his legs. He'd been palming the back of her head, but he released her now that he'd orgasmed. He took a drag off his cigarette and held the smoke deep in his lungs for a long time.

" _Gods_ ," Erza hissed and whirled. She felt like a child again lifting her hands to cover her eyes, but she couldn't help it.

"Who's that, Grissy? You inviting other girls to the party?" asked a sultry voice.

"Dunno. Someone's lost." The man sounded much rougher. "Get out of here, eh?"

Erza would have gladly, but... "I'm looking for a Griswold. Are you him?" Could this be any more awkward? She stared fixedly at the ground.

"Even if I am, you can't just interrupt a man when he's got business," the grizzle faced man rumbled. "Everyone knows this carriage is _private_ —"

"You're in the middle of a parking lot!" Erza exploded.

The girl that had been between his legs snickered. She was closer to Erza than the redhead realized. A hand found her shoulder. "It's alright, I was done anyway. Bye-bye, Grissy. And stay out of trouble, alright?"

Erza kept facing the back of the building for a solid ten seconds after the girl moved into her line of sight and sashayed back inside.

Finally, the man at her back asked, "You're that redhead Julian's got lurking around Gomorrah, huh? I'd recognize that hair anywhere."

"I don't lurk," Erza said, thinking of Juvia.

"Right, right. You gave Krane that broken nose."

Her knuckles still pained if she touched them just right. "He deserved what I gave him." More, actually. She could still feel his hands groping if she tried.

There was rustling, the sound of a zipper going up, a belt closing, then he came down the carriage steps and moved into her line of sight. His eyes were slightly glossy, like he was drunk, or stoned. "You're not from Innisfil, are you?"

"Why?" She knew she _felt_ like she stood out, but was it really so obvious?

"Too shy. Too pure. What do you want, kid? It ain't drugs." His face was hard along his mouth and the corner of his eyes, his hair salt and pepper. There was a dark five o'clock shadow on his jawline. He badly needed to shave. For all of that, he was handsome in a way Erza couldn't quite put her finger on. Maybe it was the careless way he styled his hair. _Was_ that a style? It looked like he shoved his fingers through it at least a hundred times a day. Or maybe it was the way he wore his cheap suit with pride. Sort of. The dress shirt was half untucked, the black tie loosened several inches. As if he felt her judgement, he worked to right himself, shoving the fabric back into his pants, doing up his shirt's buttons. His tie came next. He monitored her the whole time. Erza didn't miss the flash of a gun in its holster at his hip. _Strange drug dealer_. She didn't know many suit and tie types, especially ones that carried guns.

She made herself drop her arms back to her side. "No. I'm not looking for drugs. I'm looking for someone who's gone to the Vault. I need to find my way there. It's important."

"The Vault?"

"Yes, the pleasure house—"

"Everyone in this town knows it," he interjected. "It's not a place I think a girl like you should be going, though."

Annoyance flashed through her, igniting faster than magnesium. "I didn't ask for advice, I asked for directions. Tell me."

"And if I say I don't know?"

"That depends," Erza said. "Do you say it in a way that I believe you, or in a way that makes me want to beat you until you're ready to speak?" She wondered what she looked like in that moment, because this Griswold's brows went up in a show of both disbelief and admiration of her vehemence.

"What'd you say is there?"

"A man."

"If he's not loyal, kid, move on. Innisfil is built on broken hearts. You're not the first and you won't be the last."

"I don't _want_ advice," Erza snapped. She'd grabbed his collar; she hadn't realized it. He didn't waver, a further testament to how far away from home she truly was. " _Directions._ "

"The Vault is a dangerous place. You're bound to get hurt there, especially if you're new to town. There're ways that things work in Innisfil. It's different from other places," Griswold told her.

A short sword appeared in Erza's hand so effortlessly. She laid it against the man's throat in a show of bravado, not really intending upon cutting him, but willing to draw a little blood if it got the message across.

Something cold dug into her belly. She didn't even feel him move. Though she was impressed, she was reluctant to show it.

Griswold shook his head, the good cheer and gloss falling out of his eyes. Suddenly he was sober. "Drop it. You've got five other guns on you right now."

 _How_? She didn't see anyone. It might have been a bluff, but she didn't think so. _Don't buckle_. "Tell me how to get there."

"What's so important?"

Maybe nothing, but how could she know unless she was there? "You're my only lead. Please."

He blew a sigh out of his nose. "I do like to be asked nicely and no one ever said I wasn't stupid for a pretty face. You know she looks for girls like you?"

"Madam Genève?" Erza asked. "So I've heard."

"And you get what I say when I tell you it's a dangerous place?"

"I understand," Erza drawled.

"And I can't be held responsible for what happens if you stumble into the spider's web and you can't get out?"

"I wouldn't even know where to find you again to blame you."

He took the gun away. Erza released her sword.

"I don't know for certain," the man said, "It's a little too rich for me, but I've heard that Aurum Avenue is a place to look. It's west of here."

 _Yes._ Finally, something that went right. "Thank you."

"Hey, Red," he called at her retreating back. "Get out of that casino, eh? In fact, get out of this town. Nothing good's going on here. It won't be long until the shit really hits the fan."

Just as soon as she could convince Jellal.

* * *

Erza didn't think she could have walked past the mansion with the glowing walkway, but seeing a woman out front with the same slashing tattoo as Jellal certainly helped draw her attention. In a sheer shawl, she knelt on the pathway and clipped roses from an overflowing bush. Each one that had its delicate stem severed received a prayer of thanks delivered in a voice that was rich and beautiful.

Erza approached. The squeal of her armour alerted the other to her presence. She looked up, her dark eyes two black pits in the nighttime, illuminated only by the soft glow of the bushes lining the path. She started to smile, her mouth as generous as every other part of her. "Good evening, Miss. Welcome to the V—" She faltered when she saw Erza's face. "I believe you're lost."

"I don't think so. Is this the place they call the Vault?" Erza asked, undeterred.

"You are certainly lost. Do you need to get to the pleasure district? Innisfil is known for its bars and restaurants."

"No, I told you, I'm looking for the Vault—"

"There is also a large casino, Gomorrah it's named. It's simple to get there—"

A man and a woman stepped out of the darkness and brushed past Erza. She watched them walk hand-in-hand to the front door. It opened without issue. From so far away she couldn't see very much, but pale, exposed skin was one thing she couldn't misidentify. _This is it._ It had to be.

"Excuse me," Erza stepped around the woman.

"Wait!" She grabbed Erza's wrist and held her tight, scissors digging into the requip mage's wrist.

"Release me," Erza said harshly.

"No. You shouldn't be here. Leave."

"Why?"

"Because," she returned, "This is a _private_ pleasure house, and you have not been invited inside."

Erza's irritation grew. "I'm looking for someone."

The other girl shook her head. "A woman like you is too grand for this path. If you want a lover, I implore you to find one you need not buy. I'm sure there are plenty willing to entertain you."

Erza's ears burned. She didn't know how to explain that she wasn't looking for someone to buy, but looking for someone who was buying others. "Please. I just need to see someone who's in there."

The woman visibly deflated. "A lover gone rogue? Domestics are dealt with swiftly. It is bad business for jealous lovers to be seen in the Vault. You really must be going now."

Erza stood stubbornly and shook her head. "It's not like that. Just… his name is Jellal, and he has a tattoo like yours." _What does it mean?_ _Later. Ask later._

The woman stilled. "Jellal?"

"Yes."

A scared look befell her face. "Lately, there are many devils on Innisfil's streets, Lady Red. It is unsettling. Your Jellal is not here, and I pray that a man like him never returns."

Her words made Erza's skin crawl. She knew what kind of man Jellal could be; it was unsettling that others saw it, too. "Tell me where to find him."

"I cannot."

Erza got close with the woman, agitation rising. "I've been polite. I've been kind. Tell me this instant what you know."

"Haya," called a deep voice. "Do you know this woman?"

Erza lifted her eyes and searched the night. She found the newcomer leaning against one of the many bur oaks, thick arms crossed over his massive chest. He was just watching; who knew for how long? He was huge, his skin so dark he was as shadow. He stepped into the light, revealing a mean looking and hard face. Every one of Erza's senses went on high alert.

"Adisa, she was only asking questions," Haya relayed. Her voice sounded uncertain, like she was both respecting and wary of this man.

"She isn't welcomed in this place." He crossed the lawn with long strides and came into Erza's personal space with such little regard. He towered over the requip mage, huge with muscle, dark with a fear-instilling scowl. He was used to being intimidating. It was a role he'd always had, one that he was comfortable in and one that he enjoyed. Erza didn't balk beneath him like others might have. She'd met men like him before, men that muscled their way through every altercation, men that were used to their physicality being such a boon that they didn't pay any attention to anything like style or tact or strategy.

He said, "Leave, or you will be physically removed."

"I am looking for someone." Erza met his eye squarely. "His name is Jellal, he was—"

Adisa's expression turned absolutely sour. He reached down with a ham-sized fist and grabbed Erza roughly by the collar, yanking her in close enough that she could smell the onion on his breath from his dinner that night. A knife appeared in his hand, looking sharp enough to cut through steel. It was well cared for, the blade onyx and finely sharpened. "Julian York gets brazen, sending rats to do his dirty work like we _won't know_. Unacceptable."

Spittle flew off his lip on the ' _ble'_ and hit Erza square in the cheek. She breathed deeply, summoning restraint. "You'll want to release me now."

He paid her no mind. "Which do you think Julian York would miss most, Haya? This girl's eye or her tongue?"

"Madam wants no war," Haya said in a hushed voice. "Release her, Adisa."

"Perhaps she doesn't want a war, but if we do nothing he'll see us as weak. We need to get the message across."

"Adisa—"

"Her tongue, then," Adisa decided. His hand abandoned the collar of Erza's armour and found her chin, pinching hard enough that it could have bruised. Erza welcomed her magic, allowing it to tear open space. Effortlessly her giant's armour came to her. She felt every part of her body get stronger as she donned the garb. Adisa's grip on her chin loosened. Startled, he backpedaled several steps before composing himself.

"A mage."

"Adept observation," Erza said.

He drew himself up to his full height. "It won't matter. Magic and armour won't help you."

Her chest tightened with adrenaline as it did before every fight. It never brought her any joy; it was just something she was good at. Something she'd made _sure_ she was good at. Her staff came out of her armoury next, it's smooth handle filling her hand. When Adisa surged forward she brought it up in a curling arc and slapped him effortlessly across the nose. No, men like him didn't think of style or tact. Blood burst down his front, nearly invisible against his skin.

He didn't cuss, he didn't scream. In fact, he didn't make a sound. The change was intimidating. Erza welcomed the wariness and fear, it helped her stay alert. The man came at her again, hands grasping. He was surprisingly fast, but Erza was ready for him. His fingers slid over the waist of her giant's armour as she sidestepped his unrefined swipe. He stumbled, nearly ploughing into Haya. The other girl squeaked and scrambled out of the way, her shawl getting caught on rose thorns and tearing around her feet.

Erza brought up her staff again and smashed Adisa at the base of his skull. "Your size has done well for you, but you're undisciplined. I am the better fighter here. Stop and I'll let you go with your feet beneath you."

He staggered and turned on her, his face a snarl of anger. He came again, seemingly going to the right. Erza stepped out of his way, or so she thought. He feinted and came back hard, fist swinging and catching her in the ribs. Even through her armour she felt the blow like a sledgehammer. The breath left her lungs, her feet the ground. She hit hard, ungracefully landing on her behind. Her armour squealed, scratching the soft mica walkway. Haya gasped.

"Adisa, it is improper. You're hurting her. You're—"

Erza drew in a pained breath and got her feet under her again just as the large man regrouped. He came at her. She used the full length of her staff and smashed Adisa first beneath the chin, forcing his face towards the blackened sky, then came back around just as fast and cracked him hard in the temple. He staggered for two whole seconds. Erza prepared to hit him again. His knees wobbled, then collapsed. He sank to the ground in a mess of limbs, breathing but no longer conscious. Erza panted and touched her armour. He'd gotten her in the seams where the metal wasn't as strong. The ribs were bruised for sure.

Haya sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, looking at Adisa with both disappointment and fear.

Erza crouched and grabbed Adisa by the arm then started hauling him upright.

"What are you doing?" Haya asked.

"I'm taking him in to the police," Erza responded.

"The police won't take him," she said.

"Why not? He threatened me with a knife and then attacked. There's no reason—"

"They're afraid," Haya said. "Of him. Of Madam."

"Ridiculous. He's just a man."

"Sometimes the man and his monster become one when his legend is propagated just right."

Erza chewed over her words.

Haya said, "Adisa is one of Madam's finest. No police station will keep him if you bring him in. Leave him as he is."

Erza said, "He needs to answer for his crimes."

"He will," Haya told her. "He will meet death at Madam's hands for this failure."

Erza ground her teeth together, tired of hearing such stories about this as of yet unknown woman. "Show me to her." She would put an end to this right then.

"Madam will see no one—"

Erza pushed past Haya, taking the walkway like a runaway train, deciding that she'd find her on her own.

"The _iblis_ has your Jellal," Haya called, halting Erza's movements.

"What?"

"Madam ordered him to take Jellal away. They go to Silver River."

Erza shook her head. "What are you saying?"

"Unconscious, he was carted out on the back of a devil, reliving his worst nightmare again and again," she said. "I do not know the fate that awaits him, but it is likely death."

"Jellal would never allow himself to be put in that position." _Right_? It was too easy to imagine that wasn't the case. _He's a capable mage. He's one of the best. He is the man that overtook the Tower of Heaven. He enslaved children and adults alike. He is the man that destroyed the council. He is the man that has taken many, many lives. He is the man that strikes fear into the hearts of all of his foes._

And she worried about him.

"I can only relay what I saw, Miss."

She looked sincere enough that Erza's heart throbbed. "Where? Where did they go?"

"Silver Bridge is the _iblis'_ favourite place. Likely you'll find him there in amongst the Silver Dragon flowers where he sits and thinks about touching them just to make his head quiet."

Erza didn't understand what she was saying; she didn't much care, either. "Which way?"

Haya used a long, black tipped nail to point north. Once more, Erza grabbed Adisa by the arm, grunting as she hoisted him high.

"Leave him," Haya said. Magic filled the air, wind made her shawl shuffle around her sandaled feet as she gathered power.

"No. I'm taking him to a place where he won't be killed," Erza said. _Hopefully._

"He belongs to Madam. She'll be angry."

Erza looked at the woman defiantly. "Then you can tell her where to find me. I'll be staying at Casino Gomorrah. I welcome the chance to speak to her face to face."

Haya's magic fell away. "You're a foolish girl."

Confident she wasn't about to be attacked, Erza turned from Haya and moved faster than she was really comfortable with. Adisa was _heavy,_ especially when her ribs hurt so badly. _And if you need to help Jellal back?_ Then she would leave this man to fend for himself. Taking him even this far was a kindness he didn't deserve.

* * *

He didn't expect to wake again, but he did. He was under a familiar looking bridge. To his left, Silver River rushed by at breakneck speed, raised by yesterday's rains. To the right was the bridge abutment. There was something prickly clutched in his hand. Jellal flexed his fingers and felt Madam's rose dig into his palm. He welcomed the pain; it was refreshing after too long in the dark. It helped chase out his demons. His nightmares. He dropped the rose a moment later, unsure if he _wanted_ to forget those things.

Boots crunched over river stone. Jellal blinked his eyes clear. Eli came into view. He was smoking again.

"Welcome back."

"What did you do to me?" Jellal regretted the question as soon as it slipped out, afraid that it made him seem weak.

"You don't have to worry about _seeming_ weak, Jellal." Eli tapped his head. "I know you better now than you know yourself."

Jellal sat up. The world tilted threateningly; if he were standing he wasn't sure if he would have thrown up or fallen over. Maybe both.

"Who is she?" Eli asked.

Slowly, Jellal lifted his hand and massaged his temple. It ached. "What?"

Eli stepped in too close, close enough that Jellal could smell the beer and cigarettes on his breath. His eyes were intense. "The woman. Who is she?"

At first Jellal thought he meant Erza, because _everything_ was Erza.

"No," Eli barked.

Natalie flashed through Jellal's mind. He was sure it wasn't an image of his own making, placed there by the devil before him.

Eli grabbed Jellal's collar and squeezed. "You can't hide from me. Speak."

 _Telepath_ , Jellal thought and smiled; he couldn't help it. "You tell me, if you can see everything."

"Your head's such a carnival, I can't tell through all of the _shit_ ," Eli returned. "But sure, we'll go again."

A sharp pain pierced Jellal's head. Unwillingly, _another_ image of Natalie was heaved to the surface of his thoughts. She was all curling brunette hair, glinting hazel eyes and bright lipped smiles. She was all in love with Sienna and Julian and pawing at Erza. She was in love with the idea of being in love. She was handing him concealer to hide his mark, warning him about Julian York and lounging in Gomorrah's lavish casino. She was dredged from his mind without permission and put on display. Eli tried to dig further, to know more about her, but Jellal knew nothing else.

The infiltration ceased, Jellal slouched back against a huge boulder, feeling nauseous and not near so full of bravado. "Goddamn."

Eli said, "She's Julian York's, and so are you."

Jellal swallowed bile twice. "I belong to no one." No one except the Tower of Heaven and Erza Scarlet. He pushed both manic thoughts aside.

"Even if you keep telling yourself that it won't make it true, you know that, right?" Eli threw back.

Yes.

"Take her warning seriously and don't come back to the Vault. She's let you live twice. I've never known her to be a third time kind and neither have you." He turned and started making his way to the embankment.

"She needs to be stopped," Jellal said, trying to appease to any nobility the man had. "You know what she's doing is wrong."

"Everything everyone does in this place is wrong."

"You can't like working for her. What does she have on you?" Jellal pressed.

Eli's shoulders stiffened. "What makes you think anything?"

"Because I know her." Far, far better than he wanted.

"I think you'll find I'm just a bastard that likes to be paid." Eli started walking again.

"Wait," Jellal called, switching tactics. "Why did you want to know about Natalie?"

"Just curious," he replied.

"Liar." There was something about her. "I'll tell you anything you want if you help me get close to Madam."

Eli shook his head. "What I want you can't give me."

"You don't know that."

Eli didn't turn back.

Jellal debated on killing him but by the time he decided, the man was already gone. He eased back, planting his palms against the rock while he stared at the bottom of the bridge and wondered if Eli would chirp in Madam's ear like a good soldier or if he'd maintain that he didn't know much of anything. There was no answer to be had.

Feet rolled over rocks against the side of the bridge. Jellal tensed and straightened, thinking first that Eli had returned, then that perhaps it was someone trying to find shelter beneath the bridge for the night. Both assumptions were wrong. He saw her armour first, golden and blue. Then the stark red of her hair. There was a man slung mostly across her back. He was far too large for her to carry, but true to form, Erza defied every one of Jellal's expectations.

"Erza." She wasn't bleeding. She wasn't cut open. She wasn't dying by his hands. She was standing there wide eyed and messy haired as yet another storm rolled in, making the wind go wild.

She followed his voice and found him. "Jellal. Gods. Are you alright? I was told—you were brought here by a man, but..." There was only him now.

He breathed out a short sigh. "I'm fine." She didn't even know he lied. Maybe she just wanted to believe him. "But what are you doing here? Why are you—" He trailed off when she turned just slightly, revealing the man she carried. Adisa. The bottom dropped out of Jellal's stomach. "Why do you have him?"

Erza flinched at the venom in his voice. "I—"

"You went to that place? You went to the Vault?" Did she see the tattoos? Did she know? _How about is she safe_ , he admonished himself. Pride was definitely one sin close to his heart.

"I thought you'd need help," she said.

"I told you I'd be fine." There was a franticness in his chest he was finding difficult to ignore. "You shouldn't have gone to that place."

"Calm down," Erza told him. "It's fine."

"Why did you take him?"

Erza drew herself up. Her back and her ribs were aching. "He told me to leave and I wouldn't, so we had an altercation." One which had undoubtedly gone her way, Jellal saw when he looked more closely at Adisa's bruised and swollen face. "There was a woman there," Erza continued. "She said he'd be killed for failure if I left him there."

 _You should have left him to die_ , Jellal thought but didn't say. "What are we supposed to do with him?"

Erza shrugged as best she could. "That woman—Haya—said that the police wouldn't take him. I honestly didn't have a plan…"

Then Jellal saw an opportunity. This man could have the information he needed to get close to Madam Genève. He stood and used iron will to make himself not stagger or sway. He put on a good show, Erza didn't look at him suspiciously at all. "Did she see you?"

"She?"

"The mistress of the establishment," Jellal clarified.

"This man and the woman Haya were the only ones, I think," Erza said.

His relief was so intense that his knees quaked. _No collapsing._ He nodded and took Adisa's other arm, not that he thought he'd be much help to Erza after his shitty night. Appearances were everything.

* * *

As they walked down the street, Jellal only had to lie to one curious resident. "He had a bit too much." Everyone else was content to look elsewhere, to pretend that their city wasn't in ruins, that they weren't owned by everyone but themselves.

Gomorrah popped out of the night like a vibrant pistil in an otherwise rotting garden.

Before slipping behind the casino, Jellal stretched his senses out to ensure they weren't followed. The night was quiet. Using the shadows for cover he guided them to the back entrance. Sienna was there, blonde wig over her natural hair. She'd been smoking a stubby cigarette. It dropped from her hand when she saw them.

"Jellal, _what_ is that?"

"Who," he replied. "A man named—"

"Adisa," Sienna jumped in. "I _know._ You can't bring him here; Madam Genève will be _furious_ —"

"I don't care what she thinks any longer, and neither do you," Jellal reminded her.

"I was told she'd kill him," Erza added, trying not to feel like she was always straggling behind the conversation.

Sienna said, "You should have left him. Madam governs her own. Mr. York—"

"Will be happy to accept Mr. Adisa into his establishment." Julian's voice came from the right. He stepped out of the shadows with an entourage of men, some older, but most young with guns strapped to their hips hidden beneath their finely tailored jackets. Jellal, always looking for blood, didn't miss the dark smear on one man's lapel. He wondered where Julian had been, if he had his own unofficial graveyard off the shores of Scarlet Lake.

"Jellal," Julian said, "I wasn't expecting you back so soon." He addressed Erza next. "Miss Scarlet. That's… fine armour." The compliment was facetious. There was only one way Julian York preferred his women to be dressed. Erza bristled.

Oblivious, Julian asked, "How did you come to find Mr. Adisa?"

"He attacked me," Erza said. "And then I was told he'd be killed if I left him there."

"I see. Why did he attack you?"

Erza didn't want to admit she'd been tailing Jellal. But she did. Sort of. "I suppose I was somewhere he thought I shouldn't be and I wasn't ready to leave yet."

"And so you dispatched one of Madam Genève's best fighters and brought him back here." He didn't _look_ mad, though there was a dangerous thread in his voice. Was it awe? Anger? Erza couldn't tell.

Julian nodded to the men at his side. They detached and came to grab Adisa. Erza kept her grip on his limp body.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Relax, Miss Scarlet," Julian said. "I only want to take him inside and get him comfortable. Perhaps I'll have my healer see to his wounds. It looks as though he was beaten badly."

"Why would you do that?" Erza asked.

His smile was wide and seemingly genuine. "It's the humane thing to do?"

She didn't believe him to be a kind man, but people always had the capacity to surprise her. Jellal was already ducking out from beneath Adisa, happy to give him up. Julian's men came in and bullied Erza out of the way, taking him from her shoulders.

Julian said, "I'll get him set up somewhere comfortable. Perhaps you have some questions for him, Mr. Fernandez? You're more than welcome to come to my office and ask them a little later."

Jellal stepped away from Erza towards the back door. "Why wait? We'll go now."

Julian waved him off. "Clean up. Relax. Maybe even get some sleep. He'll be there tomorrow morning, too. We'll have a nice long discussion then."

Jellal made himself breathe deeply. _He's right. You're filthy. And tired_. "Very well."

Julian nodded. "Now get inside. You too, Sienna, you've been out here for awhile."

"Yes, Mr. York," Sienna agreed. She shuffled past Jellal, her high heels ringing loudly over the pavement, and disappeared inside.

Without meeting her eye, Jellal took Erza's still armoured hand and followed. It was the first time he'd really touched her all night. She was amazingly solid, warm. He wasn't trying to kill her; his fingers weren't slipping in blood. Eli's implanted visions were like a distant dream, sick, but fuzzy. It could have helped that she was beside him now, very much alive. Some of the disease he'd been carrying around for the last hour or so faded. He felt rational once more.

Erza's magic made the air glimmer. Her armour slipped away. A simple dress took its place, black with a scooping neckline. Erza knew Julian watched and imagined the look on his face was further disapproval at her wardrobe choice, but she didn't care. They stepped into the casino, leaving Julian and Adisa behind.

* * *

The hotel room was cleaner than they'd left it, and also fuller. There was a box on the bed with a bow, addressed to Erza. She looked at it with mild curiosity but summoned her willpower and deigned not to open it. At least not yet. She placed it on the floor beside the bed as gently as she could manage. Nothing rattled inside so she had to assume that whatever was in there was something soft.

Jellal immediately started stripping off his clothes, throwing the soiled ones into a pile on the floor. Erza watched, her skin feeling hot when he got down to bare skin.

"What happened to you tonight?"

"It doesn't matter," he said.

"Yes, it does."

His pants fell away. His shorts were black and clinging to his muscles. Erza found something else to look at. His face was a safe bet. Sort of. She liked that, too.

Jellal went to one of the two dressers and dug around. He found a pair of loose fitting pants and yanked them on. He came across a plain white shirt next. When he was dressed he went straight to a decanter of some amber liquid that had been left on his nightstand sometime between last night and this morning. Taking one of the crystalline glasses and the whole decanter he went to the porch. Erza watched the sliding door slam closed, the curtains billowing in the breeze the force generated. She flinched.

Instead of going out immediately, she went into the walk in closet and searched for something to change into as well. There were no shortages of new clothes here. It was hard to turn down all of the things Sienna had brought up for her.

* * *

It was bourbon of some kind. It burned his mouth, seared his throat and dug a hollow in his guts. Jellal didn't care much. The fuzziness it offered helped outcompete the sickness he felt earlier, made his head a place where he could live once more.

 _I thought I was done feeling like this._ Again he wondered if he should have killed Eli. It would have been satisfying. _And then you would have wondered if you should have killed Ultear, too._ Forgiveness. Forgiveness. He didn't _feel_ like forgiveness. He felt like razing Innisfil until all of the cockroaches fried. He felt like destroying everything he could manage, and maybe _then_ , after everything lay to waste, he'd be able to _breathe_. Things could go back to _normal_.

 _What's normal?_ There was always a demon in his head. it hadn't been so vocal since his Tower of Heaven days, but it was there. And every demon wanted its pound of flesh. He felt stripped bare. He imagined again being forced to kill Erza. _But that wasn't even the issue, was it? Not exactly the act itself, but reliving those days where you actually_ wanted _to._

He poured himself another drink. This one was harder to choke down. His throat was so small. His hands shook so badly he dropped the glass and it shattered against the white granite balcony. The alcohol rolled over the edge and dropped down, down, down to the ground way below.

He was still leaning over the side, imagining the fall down when Erza eased the balcony door back and joined him. He didn't look at her until she came beside him and leaned back against the balcony, her back to Scarlet Lake. She'd wrapped herself in a peach pink long silken housecoat that was cinched together at the front with a bow. Who knew what she wore beneath? Whatever it was, it didn't cover much, he could see the delicate curve of her collar bone, the peaks of her breasts, the swell of her hips. His fingers itched to touch her, just to make sure she was real, just to prove that he could be gentle, just to prove that she wasn't bleeding.

"Are you alright?"

Jellal flexed his fingers on the decanter. "I'm fine."

He was a very good liar; all of his tells had dried up, the shaking, the unevenness in his voice. He couldn't hide the ghost in his eyes, though. Erza shimmied a little closer. Glass crunched beneath her slippered feet. It didn't go through the delicate material, but it was close. She pushed the glass aside and tried again to get close to him. He didn't move when she reached up and brushed his hair back from his forehead. His tattoo came into full relief.

"What does it mean?" He'd had it for so long she'd just accepted that it'd _always_ been that way, that it was arbitrary, something that belonged to him, was _unique_ to him. but now she knew that wasn't the case.

Jellal searched her eyes, on the very cusp of revealing his darkest most shame-filled secret. He couldn't. "The only thing it means is that after chains, there can be freedom." This was where he found his. He took her wrist and kissed it. She didn't pull away, for which he was relieved.

 _Freedom._ He was always obsessed with it. "Jellal, what about the man that brought you out of the Vault? That woman said he would kill you, but there was no one there when I arrived. Did you kill him?" She hated the way she sounded so worried. He was here, he was alive, so did it matter?

Jellal's mouth stilled on Erza's arm. He didn't want to talk about Eli or the visions he left behind. He wanted her to look at him like that even less, though. "No one died tonight. Madam Genève told him to let me live, and so I granted him the same curtesy." He had no illusions about Madam's kindness. She did it because it was more shameful this way. She had all of the power as long as she was granting him concessions. He hated her for her tainted mercy, and himself for accepting it. "I don't want to talk about it anymore, Erza."

She nearly fought with him. There were still things she wanted to know. He looked so lost, though.

He lifted the decanter and drank straight out of the top. Erza took it away when he swallowed and set it down on a small crystalline table to her right. Her free arm looped around his shoulders. "Okay."

Jellal's muscles relaxed. He took her hand and lifted it to his mouth again. He kissed the skin at her wrist then licked. Erza held in a pleased sigh until he kissed to the widest part of her forearm and nipped, then she couldn't any longer.

He got to her bicep. Before Erza lost her wits she drummed up some thought. "Next time you go to that place, take me with you, Jellal. Let me help."

He found he couldn't say yes, but he couldn't rightly say no, either. If Erza was there she wouldn't be in his head dying. _You can't bring her to that place._ And yet, when he tried to leave her behind she went on her own anyway. He wished he knew what to do.

Erza tightened her hold around his neck and pulled him in a little closer. He wrapped both of his arms around her body. She felt good pressed against him.

"Do you regret last night?" he asked suddenly.

Erza blinked, pulling herself out of her enjoyment, trying to think of a response. "No," she said finally, because while it didn't happen the way she'd imagined, she discovered that _everything_ for her and Jellal never went the way she thought it would— _should_.

"For me, it's a blur," he admitted. His nose found the hollow of her ear. He breathed her in. Vanilla. Metal. Sword oil. What a peculiarity she was. "I wish I could remember." He also wished that he had have woken the next morning and _not_ both hallucinated and wrung his guts out.

"Well…" Erza's heart pitter-pattered. When she eased back and looked up, Scarlet Lake's brightness was reflected in his eyes. She came up on tiptoe and kissed him, still unused to him turning her away. There was no fiancé now. There was no 'keep-you-at-a-distance' bullshit. Something had changed for Jellal in this city. Maybe it wasn't for the better, but she couldn't help but think that _this_ side-effect, him seemingly needing her, was one boon she wouldn't complain about. "There is always tonight."

Jellal searched her eyes, wanting to memorize the daring look there. A very loud part of him wanted to push her just to see how brave and brazen she could be. The silken end of the bow holding her housecoat together was in his hand before he realized it. She didn't stop him from tugging it open. Beneath she wore more silk, the material as thin as he'd ever seen. It was ivory, just a few shades paler than her skin. He touched her ribs.

Her breathing increased. He moved north. Her hair tickled his hands. Red. Crimson. Scarlet. Bits and pieces of the night before came back to him. The enjoyment. The crazy. _Don't think about that_.

"Erza..." He tucked into her neck again and kissed. She shivered for him. He allowed himself to venture further, skimming the undersides of her breasts. They were full, soft and warm, heavy when he lifted them. Her fingers grasped the collar of his shirt, crawled up into his hair. She used it as leverage to pull him up so she could kiss him properly. Tonight she tasted not like lipstick or anything chemically. She tasted like Erza. She quivered slightly. Jellal swallowed an excited moan. He'd only ever seen Erza like this once, and the memory was twisted and tainted by Ultear's meddling and his own darkness.

This time was different. It wasn't her quivering out of helplessness or fear, though there was some of the latter, it was excitement. Encouraged, Jellal released her breasts and eased her housecoat off her shoulders. It puddled, silken and gleaming by the lake light. She shivered, the cold air giving her goosebumps.

"You're beautiful," he told her, unsure if he managed to say as much the night before.

Erza had heard the compliment plenty of times, but never spoken quite like that, in a way that made her take every word as gospel. She'd known men liked her before, she'd been told and told, she'd been photographed and hounded, chased through the streets. Begged reverently for minutes of her time. For dates. Those men were all afraid of her, though. Not Jellal Fernandez. Or, if he were, he did an awfully good job at hiding it.

His hands rolled up her arms to the straps of her silken dress. Erza closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of skin on skin. His fingers tucked beneath the straps, then he started easing them over her shoulders. Her eyes came open, realization coming through.

"Jellal—" The straps were halfway down her arms, the material getting stuck on her breasts.

"What?" He was hard. Hearing the uncertainty in her voice only made him harder.

"We're—people will see."

"There're no eyes on us." And if there were, he wouldn't care.

Erza tipped her head back, looking at the floors above them. She could see other balconies. They were all empty. She looked down and saw the same thing. Lightning flashed in the distance, thunder rolled. Jellal's mouth landed on her exposed throat. He sucked and licked, not marking her but close to. Erza tightened her hold on his shoulders and tipped her head to the side, excited by the thrills she felt standing there on the balcony while the roar of the gods bowled over Scarlet Lake. Her night dress came over her breasts. Jellal pushed hard into her leg, his chest against hers. His hands untangled from the fabric so he could instead stoop and grab her by the thighs. He lifted her high, resting her rump on the balcony railing. Erza gasped, unable to help it, and grabbed him harder. He seemed to enjoy the sounds she made, his breathing heightening, his fingers tightening, then pushing her nightdress up higher.

Erza wobbled on the edge. "Jellal—" It was a long, long way down.

"I won't let you drop," he promised.

"But—"

"Trust me." He looped an arm around her back, feeling her spine. She trembled beneath his hands. Leaning back so he could see her face, Jellal pushed her nightdress up and skated towards her center. Her breath hiccupped and staggered. He half expected her to push him away. She didn't. She seemed to relax, then spread her legs wider. He watched her carefully, examining her as she swiped her tongue over her lips. The wind blew hard. She let go of him with one hand so she could gather her hair over her shoulder.

He brushed over her center. Her breath hitched. Her lashes fluttered, the midnight fans kissing her porcelain cheeks. She leaned back further, daringly, trustingly, until she was barely holding him. It would be easy to drop her. He didn't. He found her clit and massaged gently, listening to her response and adjusting accordingly. Her pants turned to moans. He leaned forward with her and closed his mouth around one rigid bud. Her back bowed, his name came from her lips. Lightning cracked, thunder bellowed. The air temperature plummeted.

The first drop of rain tumbled out of the sky, finding place on Erza's bare shoulder. It was startlingly cold. It was just another sensation, one to add to many. Jellal's fingers slipped inside of her, filling her up and immediately finding the place that made her mindless. In seconds she was shaking, minutes, trying not to scream.

Jellal only slowed when her body contracted hard and she cried out in a way that said she wanted to be loud but was tempering it. He released her breast so he could mash their mouths together. His fingers were moving again. Erza, still riding off the last high, came within seconds. Her moan was smothered by his mouth. Her muscles quaked, her skin erupted in goosebumps, her hair whipped around her like a shroud, making her look like some kind of wrathful goddess. Jellal kept his eyes open so he could watch it all.

Erza broke the kiss so she could yank up his shirt. Jellal untangled himself to help. There was a moment where Erza lost her balance. The edge almost claimed her. Then Jellal found her body again, fingers digging hard into her legs to keep her in place. Erza, unafraid, threw his shirt to the ground, then went for his pants. The elastic waist band made things easy. She had them down over his hips in seconds. She grabbed him and squeezed, finding his mouth again. She was kissing him when he pushed his hips into hers and slid inside.

It was better than anything. Jellal held Erza tight around the waist with one hand, threaded his fingers through her knotty scarlet hair with the other, and watched the lightning make a canvas of white out of her skin.

* * *

A/N: Hello.

Thanks for reading. Sorry I'm so fucking weird. Thanks for being patient and ah… open-minded.


	17. Chapter 17

Fingers sliding over his ribs led Jellal out of a deep sleep. They edged upwards to his pectoral, then sideways to the centerline of his chest. Up again to the hollow of his throat. Breath broke over his shoulder. A mouth laid down a kiss. He cracked his eyes and saw the red of an autumn sunset.

Her fingers started moving down again. Jellal let his eyes close, anticipating where she'd touch next. Over his abdominal muscles. Her mouth closed in another kiss, this one closer to his neck. Her fingers kept going. Down low Jellal's body tightened, even though thanks to the morning he was already hard. At his hipbones she hesitated, he willed her to keep going. She slid over the groove, feeling more muscle. Her breath was a short puffing expulsion. What had started as an innocent learning of his body was turning into something that was making Erza Scarlet close to mindless.

Her mouth closed on his neck, her tongue flicking out and gliding up to his earlobe. Her fingers clenched his hip, sliding around so she got some of his behind, too. Her mouth landed on his jawline. She bit startlingly hard. His eyes came open. Erza was so close he was able to count the delicate freckles on her nose. Her brown eyes were alight with mischief, trained exactly on his. Jellal realized she _knew_ he was pretending. He smiled. It felt genuine.

"Morn—"

She kissed him, muffling the words, and pushed her body closer to his. There were no sheets between them and she was still nude. Her leg slid over his, smooth, her chest both plump and soft as she eased beneath the blankets still covering him and clambered on top. Then she sat up, hips aligned with his. He pushed into her backside, more rigid than he'd ever been in his life.

"Erza…"

She smiled; it was the wickedest thing he'd ever seen, sultry and saucy and cocky. She had all the power. She _knew_ it. He forced himself to relax. She took his hands and placed them on her body, edging them up so he could feel the healthy curl of her breasts.

His eyes landed on a dark purple mark on her right. He pulled out of her grasp to finger the area, want making way for concern. "What happened?"

Some of Erza's mischief fell away. "Adisa hits hard and I was slow."

Jellal felt cold. "Adisa did this to you?"

Erza snorted. "You make it seem like I've never been hit before."

Of course she had. He knew it. It didn't mean he liked it. "Never in my presence." If it was, he wouldn't have stopped until Adisa paid for all of the pain he inflicted times ten.

 _Until he was dead._

Erza squeezed his wrist, bringing him back out of a dark place. "Never mind that." She forced him to keep touching her. it didn't take long for Jellal to concede, for the touches to happen on his own volition without Erza's guidance. He ignored the blue and purple stain and cupped her breasts. She breathed excitedly and started rocking her hips. His cock, which had been getting soft moments ago, got rigid once more. He could feel she was wet.

"Is this often how you like to wake up?" he couldn't help but ask.

"When I have the option to." Her voice was caramelized sugar. She wasn't shy now when everything was happening the way she wanted.

Most of the blood rushed from Jellal's head. _I'm dreaming_. It was easy to imagine. He'd always wanted Erza like this but never thought it was something he could have.

"Don't you think it's nice?"

He let out a strangled noise that was supposed to be agreeance. She grinned wider. Erza was a wicked girl when she had the control.

Her hips rolled again, forcing Jellal to dig into her harder. It almost hurt but mostly felt good. He arched his hips and inched down, thinking to slide into her. She wriggled so it was impossible, then came for his mouth again. Her lips were warmer and smoother than he remembered. Her hands landed on his wrists. She lifted them high over his head and pinned him to the bed. There was a moment where Jellal felt panicked; it had been a long time since he'd been forced down and restrained, even if it was just with hands, but the memories were clear and never without their fair share of pain. She wasn't trying to make him hurt, though. He made his tensing muscles relax and breathed deeply of her scent. She still smelled like vanilla and sword oil, but also like last night's rain. Her lips came to his. There were a lot of things in that kiss, too many to identify every single one of them. Want was pretty clear, though.

She released him and shimmied down, leaving a trail of kisses as she went. His throat, his shoulder, his chest, his stomach, none went untouched. Her hair tickled against his skin, soft and fine like spider's silk. At his hip she hesitated and used her tongue to swirl closer and closer to his erection.

Mindless, Jellal propped himself up on his elbows, looking down his body to watch her. Golden light filtered through the windows and danced on her skin, setting her ablaze like she was a girl made of fire and blood. When she lifted her gaze to gauge his reaction, she was wearing an impish expression, red-lipped mouth smiling again. Seeing what she wanted in his face she continued, kissing his erection at the base.

His breath staggered.

She moved up, tongue drawing a trail.

His fingers worked in the blankets.

At the tip she met his eyes while she closed her mouth around the head.

Though he wanted to close his eyes, he kept them open. He loved everything about her, the way her chest and throat pinked when she was excited, the way her skin glittered, nude and smooth, the way her dark lashes framed her toffee coloured eyes and ate the light, the way her scarlet locks were a red purer than blood. Most of him wanted to weave his fingers through her tresses just to feel it, just to be closer to his favorite colour. As it was he thought it was safer to grip the bed instead, that way he wouldn't be feeding the dark passenger in his mind, the one that wanted red in his hands always.

Her tongue caressed him. Her mouth was warm and skilled. She teased, taking first only an inch, but gradually she moved further and further down his shaft until it was all she could take. More than ever he wanted to touch her. He settled for the feeling of her breasts pushing into his legs, for the hot expulsion of breath she left on his hips, for her hands digging into his thighs. She sighed like _she_ was getting satisfied, not the other way around. The sound vibrated through her tongue and into his body. Intense pleasure shot through every muscle, every tendon, every nerve. He moaned, unable to help himself. Erza sighed again and moved a bit faster.

"Gods. Slow down," he told her.

She didn't.

"Erza—"

Her eyes flicked up to meet his. The sun couldn't touch the black of her lashes, though her hair was fired, burning ember. Her mouth tightened on his body. She sucked harder. One hand went between her legs so she could pleasure herself. She sobbed. The sound, the _feeling_ , felt like it was tearing him apart in the most wonderful way.

"Erza—"

She started to shake, sensitive to her own ministrations.

"Erza, fuck—"

Her eyes rolled up to meet his and he knew it was too late, even if she stopped he'd still come. She made a noise that was border lining surprise when his body swelled in her mouth and he came on her tongue. She didn't pull away, though, not until he was finished. She came up, red mouth looking _redder,_ lips swollen and damp. Her cheeks were flushed. Her hand still worked between her legs. She laid down a kiss at his base.

Jellal sat up fully; his head was spinning, though not in a way that was displeasing. He finally allowed himself to touch her, pulling her up so their mouths were even. He first kissed her in a way that was both too rough and not nearly rough enough, then he grabbed her by the hips.

"Lay back."

She didn't hesitate, folding so that her legs were still bent while her back was flat against the bed. Her fingers still worked. Jellal pushed them aside, wanting to be the one that made her orgasm. She made a small noise of displeasure until he touched her in a way that made her eyes flutter closed. She was swollen and wet, welcoming when he eased his fingers into her body. Her back arched. Jellal came to her, tongue seeking.

"Shit," she swore as he kissed the hardened nub between her legs. Jellal smiled, knowing that soon it would be a stream of constant curses and praises; he wouldn't stop until she could barely breathe.

* * *

Her hair was fanned out against his chest. Jellal finally let himself touch the tangled locks. Though it was knotty, it was also soft, the strands silken. It was her hair that smelled like vanilla, he realized as he lay there in the setting light of the sun and breathed her in.

Erza released a satisfied sigh and grasped his bicep.

He slid his fingers down her side and felt her flinch when he got to her ribs. Jellal felt a familiar part of himself close off and knew that this was a peace that wouldn't last. Adisa had to answer for his crimes and Julian York required something from him.

"Erza?"

"Mm." She seemed so content to lay there; he had a hard time justifying doing much of anything. _You could stay this way._ No, he couldn't, his mind wouldn't allow for it, but it was a nice thought. A thought that ended abruptly when he remembered Julian York's prize downstairs, the sickening baubles riding in his pocket that he'd braved the Basement for, and his promise to keep Sienna's lies sound.

"Your Nakagami Armour."

She lifted her head and searched his eyes, some of her relaxation falling away. "What about it?"

"It dispels magic?"

"Yes. Why?"

"I need anti-magic lacrimas. It might be possible to trap the magic your armour uses within the crystals." Just like he did with the Tower of Heaven.

She looked at him curiously. "For?"

He debated the wisdom of getting her involved. So far she was just a bystander, but bringing her in like this changed things. "Would you accept remaining ignorant?" He knew the answer already.

"No."

He sighed and informed her of the lies Sienna told.

"Why would she lie?"

"To protect herself, and me."

Erza's brow furrowed. "If Julian York is a man she feels she needs to lie to for her safety, perhaps she shouldn't be working for him and neither should you."

Everything was always clear-cut for Erza. She didn't get Innisfil and the gray between the black and white that the town existed in. "If she wasn't working for Julian York she'd be working for Madam Genève, or she'd be privately owned, or she'd be doing something else to make money, Erza." He remembered Krane bloodied and beaten and had a hard time feeling anything but detachment. He wouldn't have done anything different. Well, maybe he would have shown Krane more mercy. At least, that's what he liked to think. "He takes care of the girls working for him. As for me… he hasn't done anything to welcome judgement yet."

"The stuff he does here is barely legal," Erza said. "And I think he's involved in making drugs."

Jellal didn't say one way or the other. "Will you help or should I look elsewhere?"

She chewed her cheek. "I don't even know if it'll work."

"The only way to know is to try."

"What does he want the anti-magic lacrimas for?"

"Protection?" Jellal suggested.

Erza sighed, her morality and loyalty warring.

Sensing her dilemma, Jellal said, "He won't be able to hurt anyone with them, Erza, if that's what you're afraid of. It would only stop attacks."

"Yes, I know how it works." She was a little abrupt but couldn't help it.

Jellal untangled their bodies and sat up. "That's fine. I will look elsewhere." Perhaps back in the sound-proofed pleasure room at the Vault. _Was it the room, or was it Eli that nullified your spell_? It should have been enough magic to lay to waste everything around him. Eli should have been dead. The whores and customers alike should have been crushed beneath the rubble. _And you, too_. There would have been no escape.

He searched for something to wear and found last night's shorts. They were up around his waist when he felt Erza's magic take over the room. When he glanced over his shoulder she was rising from the bed in her Nakagami armour.

"Thank you."

Erza nodded but not in a way that was generous. "It uses a lot of my magic energy, so let's be fast."

Jellal found a clean pair of black slacks and donned them, then went searching for the clothing he wore last night. It was still in a heap on the floor. In the pocket of his jacket he found the lacrima. In the light of day, they looked benign, simplistic. He could feel the power in them, though, and knew that they weren't regular crystals. The priest had done well. Body magic was always powerful.

"The lacrima are completely untouched. They should absorb any power you give to them," Jellal said. "Just hit them with everything you have."

"Set one on the ground and step back," Erza commanded.

Jellal chose the smallest of the bunch and set it on the wooden floor, then backed up like she suggested, getting totally out of the line of fire. Erza lifted her halberd, gathered power, and let the magic condense. It was over in a rush of wind, a dampening of sound. Jellal's skin got cold in the presence of so much power. The lacrima rocked back and forth, back and forth on the floor, its off-white surface glowing brightly for a moment. The wall behind it fractured, the power cutting deeply into its surface. Distantly, Jellal wondered if Julian York would be grossly unhappy about that. Then he wondered if he cared.

Not so much.

Erza dispelled her armour as soon as the spell was completed, wanting to limit the drain on her body. Already her skin tingled and her muscles felt the first niggling twang of fatigue. The Nakagami was powerful, but everything came at a price. She swapped her bare skin for a pale yellow dress with a delicate lace neckline.

Jellal went to the lacrima and lifted it. It was so cold he hissed and dropped it before getting very far. His fingers thrummed with residual power.

"Did it work?" Erza asked.

"I think so," he agreed. "I'll bring it to him and we can try then." He found a discarded shirt on the ground and used that to wrap the crystal. Even through the material he could feel the power. He left it on the floor for the moment.

"When?"

"Now," he affirmed.

"I'll come."

He remembered Adisa and shook his head. _That_ was a conversation he wanted to have on his own for multiple reasons. "I won't be long." Knowing a volley of protests were coming, he said, "Give me an hour." Because that was the price of a man's life. "Meet me in the dining room downstairs? It's opposite the blackjack table. We'll have breakfast together while we decide what to do tonight." His suspicions were correct; the introduction of an action plan, the possibility of being _included_ , pacified her enough that she conceded.

"Very well."

Feeling very much like Julian York, he said, "The closet is fully stocked."

She had a confused look on her face. It gave way to understanding, then to wrath. Jellal went to the closet for himself, determined to avoid the torrent of curses she was priming when she figured out how insulted she was. He chose a dark red shirt to go with his black slacks, and a black tie, not because he wanted to be choked by the restrictive accessory, but because it would be expected. Lastly, he used the foundation Natalie gifted him and covered his tattoo.

By the time he came back out, Erza still hadn't figured out how to tell him to fuck himself in such a way that conveyed her anger. She looked at him. He could tell that the absence of his tattoo threw her off her guard. He kissed her swiftly, further disarming her.

"I'll see you soon." He grabbed the lacrimas off the floor and left before she recovered. The spell had faded enough that he could drop the shirt and tuck the crystal into his pocket.

* * *

"Mr. Fernandez."

He hadn't gotten very far. Jellal pulled his eyes away from the roulette table. Colt looked just as blonde and burly as ever.

"Mr. York said you have business this evening. Follow me."

Reluctantly, Jellal turned from the table. If he had chips he wasn't sure if he would have so easily; the need for a rush was eating at him. _You'll have it. Soon._

They walked past slots, and card tables, by a huge stage where the lights were dimming. At the bar was a myriad of people all ordering drinks. The bartender was so busy she didn't look their way at all as Colt navigated into the 'Staff Only' portion of things and made for a set of kitchen doors.

Jellal asked, "Julian wants to meet in the kitchen?"

Colt shook his head. "Not exactly."

The door swung closed, blocking out the dings and laugher that made Gomorrah. Now they were in a bustling kitchen. Servers looked their way, and cooks. No one said anything to them directly, though. The smell of frying meat was in the air, and vegetables. Colt went straight to a tall walk-in freezer and yanked the door back. "Get in."

Jellal looked at it incredulously. "What?"

"Step inside."

"Why the hell would I step into—"

Colt glowered and went first. For an instant he existed within the freezer, then he seemed to disappear. _It's an illusion_ , Jellal realized. More warily he came inside. The freezer dissolved and a golden room took its place. Colt leaned against the wall on the opposite side. The door slammed closed.

"Noir," he said before Jellal could ask _what the fuck._

The world felt like it inverted. The room twisted and turned. Reality bent. Jellal stumbled hard and would have gone down, but he clutched desperately at the doorframe over his shoulder. His stomach revolted. He swallowed, keeping what little was in there in place. It helped, but not for long. The spell was relentless and rough.

Just when he thought he could take no more the world came to an abrupt halt.

Jellal breathed deeply and found the other man across the room. Colt looked tousled and ill as well. "What the fuck was that?"

"Teleportation," Colt said.

"To _where?_ "

He didn't respond. The door at Jellal's back opened. He turned and looked into a very different kind of place. Where Gomorrah was white, white walls, white floor, white ceiling and white fixtures, this place was midnight. Pot lights illuminated the area just enough that wrought iron filigree could be seen decorating the walls here much like in Gomorrah. Everything was thorny.

"Come."

"Where are we?" Jellal demanded again.

"Another one of Julian's casinos," he said shortly. He pushed past Jellal, leaving him to decide whether or not to stand there like an idiot or to follow. He stepped into the odd place. Colt turned right sharply, bringing them into a long hallway. Julian stood there, a cigarette in hand. There were two other people with him, an older man with a face much like a bulldogs, and a woman with short dark hair. The woman was wrapped around the man with the sagging face, her lips on his neck. He had her against the wall and was looking into her eyes like he was warring viciously with himself.

"All of it can be yours, Nolan," Julian said. "You'll have access to my casinos, my girls, my drugs. All I ask is that you cut ties with Madam Genève and get Dee Vander to sell me the Hive and give me her allegiance."

The man said, "I don't know if Dee will ever give up her business."

"You're close. Convince her."

"She's not often a woman that listens to reason."

Julian met Jellal's eyes down the hall. "Perhaps she would be if she knew that my forces were far greater than she suspected."

"I never knew you to be a lying man, Julian," Nolan said. His voice was vague; he was torn between paying attention to the woman that fawned over him and the conversation at hand.

"Who says I lie? Already she was suspicious that I sent people into her Hive to dispatch her men."

Nolan's attention sharpened. He turned his head so Jellal was looking at it's back. "You told her that wasn't you."

Julian shrugged. "I wanted to do business amicably, as I am with you, but she wouldn't listen. I wanted to give her a shove in the right direction."

Julian York was a sly cat, stretching the truth to benefit himself. Jellal let him take the credit for his ruthlessness, if only to share the burden.

"I'm not above brutality if it comes time and people are still wavering."

Nolan composed himself. "Even if that man was yours, she has an alliance with Genève, and Genève has worse things than a man that is generous with his knives."

It was strange hearing himself be spoken about in such a way. Was that how his legacy was known now? Was Jellal Fernandez, former terror, not so former? A monster that was _'generous with his knives'?_

"So I've heard," Julian said. "A devil that can read minds, a woman that controls the air, and a man that is known for his brutality. I do feel inclined to inform you her behemoth has fallen. Adisa won't be returning to the Vault any time soon."

Nolan's lips disappeared. "Adisa was your doing?"

Julian shrugged, again taking credit where it wasn't due.

Nolan believed him. "Is he dead?"

"I think that's for Genève and I to discuss."

Nolan asked, "Is that what I am to expect if I decline your offer to do business? My employees maimed and brutalized?"

"That would be the kindest thing one could expect." Julian's voice was calm, chilling. Jellal appraised him. This man's monster equated his own. Merciless, brutal when he needed to be. All hidden behind a dead calm façade.

The whore that fawned over Nolan stopped caressing his balding head, a note of fear coming into her eyes when she heard Julian's voice. Nolan pushed away from her and looked back at Jellal. Jellal recognized the fear flitting across his face as he looked upon him and Colt standing shoulder to shoulder. He took a step back, not wanting to appear as a unit belonging to Julian York, but the damage was done.

Though Jellal thought things were about to go south very quickly, Nolan composed himself, a pro in his own right. "I won't respond to threats, but I will entertain deals. I will relay your message to Dee Vander and I will consider my own position. How much revenue did you say you wanted from my distilleries?"

"Forty percent," Julian said.

"That's rather high. Thirty."

"Fine," Julian returned, "If you gift me one of the distillers. Pull all of your alcohol vats out and give me the building."

"For what?"

"For something that will make us a lot of money if it works out," Julian said. "You'll have more details if you accept my offer."

Nolan nodded. "Very well. Give me a day."

"Show him out, Valerie." Julian waved them off.

"Yes, Mr. York," the girl responded. She took Nolan's hand. They edged past Jellal and Colt and stepped around the corner. As soon as they were out of sight Julian jabbed his cigarette out in a wall-mounted ashtray then fixed his black suit and black tie. Both were stark against his yellow dress shirt, not to mention immaculate; there was no need for the obsessive straightening. He wore two golden rings on his right hand, one with a clear white stone, the other onyx black. They flashed in the overhead light.

"Things aren't going quite the way you wanted them to?" Jellal asked.

Julian finally regarded him properly. "Things are fine, Jellal. Thank you."

He didn't believe Julian. Beneath all of the calmness and rigidness there was turbulence. "You know that man will betray you eventually, right?"

Julian rolled his shoulders back. "I suspect one day everyone will betray me. I plan on being a step ahead of them so when it comes I'm not surprised. Come, into my lounge." There was a tall door at his back that had blended in with the dark wall until Julian threw it open. He stepped into a room that had a small stage set aflame by glittering lights. There was no performer up there now, but Jellal was sure that would change shortly.

Colt took up a stance by the door, hands crossed in front of his middle. Jellal hadn't noticed before, but he had a bulge at his hip. A gun. Apparently Julian York loved his guns as much as he loved his women and his scotch and his money.

Julian led him to a circle of leather couches surrounding a glass table that held up a huge Hookah. He dropped himself into a chair and motioned Jellal into the one opposite.

When Jellal sat he asked, "What's that for?"

Julian followed his gaze to the Hookah and explained, "The other day I had some kid in here testing Silver. Fucked him up really good. I think we're close, though. Oh, but I forgot, a sensible, _moral_ man like you doesn't like talking about that kind of stuff."

"I never claimed to be a moral man."

"That's good," Julian said. "We should always see ourselves in the plainest possible light, that way we're never at risk of disillusion when we do something unprincipled."

Jellal was never surprised, especially lately.

"If you want, you can try some," Julian said. "I have a fresh batch, the most refined yet."

Jellal shook his head. "I may not be a moral man, but I'm not a fool. Silver will kill you."

"And if I said you've already had some?"

Jellal's fingers got cold. "What?"

"Oh, I was just musing," Julian said. "Would it change your perspective if you had it and it didn't kill you?"

"Nothing would change my mind about it."

"But Illusion? That's a drug you can condone?"

"Illusion is for people—"

"Of weak wills and minds? Fools that are too afraid to go for the ones they love, or are unable to?" Julian supplied. He laughed. "I'm going to make a killing, aren't I? Just as soon as that piece of shit _whore_ bag tells me how she's doing what she's doing."

"I thought you wanted Madam dead?" Jellal wondered.

"More than anything," Julian replied. "Though it would be nice to learn her secrets before she goes. When the time comes I won't ask you to be merciful, Jellal. There has to be one of her rats that's willing to speak."

"And if the only way to recreate Illusion at an industrious level as you want is to kill mages as she's doing, Julian, what will you do?" Jellal challenged, listening very closely to his response.

Julian immediately said, "I told you, I want to build an image. I want to be different from Madam Genève and everyone else that's ever stepped foot in this city looking for power. I'll find another way."

Maybe Julian York was as good as a liar as Jellal was. Whatever the case, Jellal believed him.

"So," Jellal broached, changing the subject. "Where are we?"

Julian sat back, leather chair squeaking. "Welcome to my pride, Casino Noir. I thought it was best to conduct our business here. It's more private than Gomorrah. Everyone that wanders these halls are here on my explicit invitation, and as you saw, there is only one way to enter."

"Teleportation."

"That is correct," Julian said. "To a place not quite in the physical realm. This is all my own."

"That must take a great amount of magical energy," Jellal said.

Julian nodded. "You're right."

Jellal wanted to ask how he was doing it, but then thought maybe he didn't really want to know. "You have Adisa? He is alive?"

"Yes."

"Then take me to him," Jellal demanded. The bruise on Erza's side stood out in his mind.

"Not so fast. The lacrima we spoke of." Julian held out his hand.

 _Right._ Jellal produced the spelled lacrima and leaned over the table to hand it off. "You'll need to test it."

"I plan on it." Magic filled the air. Jellal's body got hotter than burning coal. His blood felt like it was boiling. The lacrima in his hand superheated, then super cooled as the Nakagami's magic absorbed Julian's. There came a loud crack, the lacrima split in two, then Jellal's nose burst with blood. It was all he could taste, all he could feel, the hot wash leaking down his face.

It stopped as soon as it started. Jellal coughed and gagged, fingers digging into the broken lacrima. His thumb, only partially healed after his run in with the razor blade, split open again. The blood came freely, eased out by Julian's strange magic.

"That's a shame," Julian said calmly. "I thought it was going to work."

Jellal stood almost blindly. "You fucking—" His voice was muffled around the blood.

"Relax, you're fine," Julian said dismissively. "Colt, get him a towel and a fresh shirt."

"Yes, Sir," Colt said from somewhere behind Jellal. Jellal snorted out blood.

"You're getting it everywhere," Julian said dispassionately when some drops landed on the glass table.

Jellal's temper flared. He found the man still lounging in his chair. His feet were moving before he really gave them permission to. Julian held up his hand in a ' _halt_ ' fashion, looking completely unconcerned. It had been a long time since someone disregarded his fury like that. That alone made Jellal choke up.

"It was an accident, Jellal. I truly thought your lacrima was going to work."

"So you test it on me? Without warning?"

"To be fair, if you don't have faith in your own work should I even really be buying them off you? Stand behind your creation and take responsibility when it fails," Julian said.

His words cut Jellal to the bone. _Pretend better than that._ Some of the murderous intent fell away, making room for cold composure. "It's the first of its kind that I've tried to make."

"Next time," Julian said.

Jellal mopped his face. The blood had stopped but it was _everywhere_. Colt appeared in that moment brandishing a towel and a damp face cloth. Another shirt, red like the one he wore, was in the man's other hand. Jellal took the cloth first and wiped up what he could without a mirror. He dried next, then moving briskly he loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt.

"There is a man I met with in the Vault last evening."

Julian quirked a brow. "Is that so? Someone of interest?"

"The woman Haya called him _Iblis_."

"Madam's devil," Julian said. "Eli Tase."

"Yes." Jellal tugged the other shirt over his head and fought with the tie next. Julian stood and did it for him. It was hard being so close to him when all Jellal could imagine doing was killing him. He managed, somehow.

"He took me to a room that ate magic."

Julian's hands stilled. "Does she have everything I want, always?"

"I think Eli can be worked with," Jellal said. He'd had plenty experience making contrary people do things that seemingly went against their grain. Sorano, Ultear, Erik and Macbeth were of the most troublesome he'd worked with. Erik especially. The similarities between he and Eli were impossible to ignore. High strung, holier than thou shithead that thought he had all the answers and all of the advantages because nothing was ever fucking private?

Got it.

"Eli is the type of man you kill, Jellal, because he's a wolf that doesn't even try to wear sheep's clothes," Julian returned.

"Like you. I can see why you're reticent, even if he has the answer to our lacrima problem," Jellal quipped.

Julian laughed. And laughed. "Very well. Tell me, what makes you so sure that he can be worked with?"

"Madam Genève has something on him. A guy like him doesn't work for her for nothing," Jellal reasoned.

Julian tightened Jellal's tie. "I'm listening."

"Find out what it is, offer him a way out of his deal with Madam, and you won't find anyone more loyal. Freedom is a powerful bargaining bid," Jellal said. "I would know."

Tie tight and straight, Julian rocked back on his heels, considering.

Jellal said, "Say the word and I'll tear that ground out from Madam's feet." Maybe she _should_ suffer before she met her inevitable end.

"Very well. You have my permission to offer Eli Tase anything he desires to get his betrayal to Madam Genève."

Jellal nodded. "Adisa?"

Julian's smile was slow and sly. "I've already asked him my questions and learned everything he has to say. I could just relay the information."

"You're right. I don't plan on doing much talking."

* * *

Adisa's body slung over his shoulder was heavy. Dead weight often was. After taking the Gold Room back to Gomorrah, he used a path Julian pointed out and carted out his mess. It wasn't the first man he'd offered to Scarlet Lake and he was sure he wouldn't be the last. Like before, he felt no remorse.

At the lake's edge, he carted the much larger man to the end of the dock and tottered on the wooden planks. He didn't wonder if anyone watched. It hardly mattered. He bowed and grunted, forcing Adisa off his shoulders. The man splashed loudly. Scarlet water licked at Jellal's boots. The man sank down, down, down and was taken by the murky water within seconds. The lake always kept what it was given.

He saw her on the next dock over only after he turned away. The scarlet water illuminated her skin. She would have looked devilish, but with the light from the end of the dock edging back the bloody colour, Natalie just looked like a girl sheathed in red, not a monster. She stood at the end of the dock looking out over the wavy surface, the wind's fingers easing through her hair. Both of her high heels were off and forgotten behind her. Her toes curled around the edge of the wooden plank, the very tips wetted by waves.

"Scarlet Lake is full of the toxin given off by Silver Dragon." Even Jellal was startled by the abrupt sound of his voice.

Natalie turned and looked at him. The dress she wore was sheer, like Haya's veil. He could see the dark circles of her nipples through the material, and everything else, too. She was a girl unashamed. Beautiful. Not like Erza was beautiful, but breathtaking all the same.

"I know better than you what devils sleep at the bottom of this lake. Sometimes we even walk together."

Jellal passed her strange words off, determining by the distant and vague look in her eye that she was stoned. "You're addicted to Silver, aren't you?"

Natalie clutched her elbows. "No. But I want to be. It's a perfect trap, isn't it?"

"Maybe you should get away from the water, Natalie."

She shivered. "Julian also doesn't want me out by the lake. He says he thinks I'll swim in it. Maybe I would."

"It'll probably kill you."

Natalie said, "Yes. The toxin in the flowers that grow along Silver River absorbs magic. It's part of what makes you so high. Like alcohol, it's literally poisoning your body." She got faraway again. "For all of that, it calls to mages. Julian says Scarlet Lake is always hungry for them. He's right. I feel a draw to it. Don't you?"

He'd always loved Scarlet Lake for various reasons and said as much.

Natalie shivered violently and crept a little closer to the edge of the dock. There was an instant where Jellal thought she'd plunge into the water. He didn't know if he'd go in for her or not. She seemed to call some reserve up from somewhere and stepped away. "It's not wise to let it control you, even if it makes your demons quiet." She took another step back and kept on going until her feet were on land. Her heels were left on the dock.

Jellal joined her, putting Scarlet Lake and Adisa behind him. "What would it be like to have silent demons?"

Natalie smiled. "There is always one sure thing to make them silent. The dead don't speak. No one needs to rush to the end, though. There is a lot of beauty in this world, once you break past the filth."

He wasn't sure why she gave him chills, but his skin was crawling.

"Where are you going, Jellal? To eradicate some evil?"

"I'm going to lure an _Iblis._ " Send a devil to tame a devil. He was missing his dinner date but Madam Genève would crumble.


	18. Chapter 18

Men and women dressed in the finest cloth glittered and shone all around. Sitting defiantly in a sparkling restaurant at a table for two wearing her little yellow dress, Erza fumed. First, she counted the minutes Jellal was late. Then she counted the digits he'd be missing if he made her wait any longer.

When five minutes turned into fifteen she was furious. When fifteen turned into twenty-five she was burning with rage. Beyond that she felt like a fool for still sitting there, hoping he'd come. _So I can pummel him_. So she could make sure he was alright. Her feet prickled with the need to walk.

"Wine, Miss?" A male server in a crisp white shirt and black tie appeared at her elbow.

"Yeah."

He looked startled at her curtness. Without a word, he filled her glass.

"Leave the bottle," a deep voice said.

"Yes, Sir."

Erza's heart turned, her shoulders stiffened, and then he came into view and she'd never felt more crestfallen. Julian York, looking as immaculate as ever, lowered himself into the seat opposite her. His salt and pepper beard was freshly trimmed, his hair combed so every piece was in place. He fixed his onyx cufflinks.

"Miss Scarlet. Can I say I've never seen a woman more stunning?" And yet he hadn't looked at her.

"I suppose you can say whatever you want," Erza replied tartly. "I can't stop you."

He lifted his gaze. "You have a beautiful tongue. Good for cutting."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "What do you want, Julian?"

"Your company."

"I'm waiting for someone."

"You've been sitting here for a long time by yourself," Julian pointed out.

Erza felt her face get hot. She picked up her wine and drank from it for something to do. It was both sweet and dry.

"If you want… we can go to my private dining room and have a few drinks in a more intimate setting." He smiled. It was a nice smile, a winner's smile. The smile of a man that was used to getting his way.

"Tell me, Julian, if I'm with you in your private dining room, how am I supposed to know if my date truly stood me up?" Erza leaned forward and asked.

"I'll have Giles inform us the _moment_ Jellal steps through that door," Julian said.

Erza hated that he knew exactly who she was waiting for.

Undeterred by her glower, Julian said, "Come on, Miss Scarlet. A woman of class such as you deserves to be treated like a queen, and queens don't wait with peasants for a date. Especially when that date is running behind."

Once again, Erza surveyed the people around her. She was by far the frumpiest. _Good. Stupid Jellal._ His words still stung. She wanted to know the moment he came in so she could do her best to slice him through with a glare. On the other hand, if he strolled in forty minutes late and saw her still sitting there pathetically… It would be much more satisfying to be doing something else. Something a little more independent.

She clutched the stem of her wine glass so hard she thought it would snap in half. "Very well."

* * *

His pants swished with every step until he sweated so much they just clung to his legs. The air was heavy with humidity, but that wasn't the only reason he was uncomfortable. _Back to the Vault. Back to tangle with the monster again_. He didn't know if he meant Eli or himself. Annoyed, he grabbed the knot holding his tie so close to his throat and pulled it loose a few inches, then undid the top two buttons of his dress shirt.

 _Slovenly_ , Madam would call him, but without a suit jacket, she'd call him that anyway. _Why do you care what she thinks?_ He told himself it was more about getting into the Vault and less about how she would perceive him.

As always lately, young eyes followed his steps as he walked the streets. Madam was watching him much more carefully now. How long until she decided she'd had enough and killed him? _The better question is,_ Jellal thought, _how come she hasn't already_? That made him itchy, imagining what she was thinking when she spared his life again and again _. Is it really just to irk Julian York_? That was a distinct possibility, she was a bitch like that, but was that all?

The Vault came into view too fast. Too slow. The trees were glowing again, the mica walkway luminescent, the roses and the forget-me-nots competing for beauty in the eerie light.

Jellal's footsteps slowed. His throat was parched. He thought of being secretive, but too much secrecy and Madam would try to make him dead if he was found out. He needed to be alive to have his one on one with Eli Tase, Madam's devil, and to meet the witch herself face to face. _You just have to go in. Just plain as day._ She was likely expecting him to be sly. What would she do with guilelessness?

He was monitored by people he couldn't see but not stopped as he went to the door. Heart in his throat, he opened it wide.

There were only three people in the main room tonight. A man Jellal didn't recognize—he wore Madam's enforcer mark on his face and a gun at his hip—the young blonde girl Jellal saw on his last visit, and Haya. The last was in her signature veil. This time it was a plum so dark it was almost black. The face veil was trimmed with silver and lined with small beads that tinkered softly with every breath she took.

Jellal brought his eyes back to the man. He was in one of the plush arm chairs, the blonde in his lap, his fingers up beneath her short black dress. The look on the girl's face was one of mild disgust and slight fear. Jellal got the impression that she didn't want to be there. There was a bruise on her bicep. It had been covered up with makeup, but Jellal knew what to look for. He tasted iron in his mouth and knew it wasn't fear but rage.

The man stood when he saw Jellal, shoving the girl off his lap. She squeaked and fell to the floor in a mess of limbs and a flash of dark panties. He didn't spare her a second glance while he went for the gun at his hip, his eyes locked on Jellal's.

Haya touched the gunman's shoulder to keep him from drawing his weapon. "Not tonight, Addy. Mr. Fernandez isn't here for trouble."

"Madam said—"

"I spoke with her before we started this evening," Haya said tersely. "Mr. Fernandez is a special guest tonight. Sit back down, put your gun away." She looked to Jellal. " Come, _Sayidi_." Her long delicate fingers beckoned him forward.

Jellal's head whirled. This was not the way he foresaw this happening. Eli was supposed to be in this room. There were supposed to be customers so Madam felt somewhat inclined to uphold her image. Without those safety nets his presence here was like a grace that put him even more at her mercy. His hatred for her only grew.

"Haya," Addy said again.

"I've spoken."

"Yes, but—"

"Enough." Wind slapped at Addy's chest with enough force to push him back. He fell into his chair once more. His face was pale. He didn't make to stand again.

"Go ahead, Celia, rise and continue with your lesson," Haya told the blonde girl, composed once more. "You don't want Madam to be angry again."

The blonde stood and mostly fixed her dress, then went back to the guard. She folded himself in his lap like she was a girl of experience. She did everything Madam told her to; Jellal recognized the look in her eye, the batting lashes, the smile. Her eyes flicked to Jellal's once. He watched a change come over her; smooth features hid a world of troubles. Jellal had to bite his tongue hard enough to hurt to make himself walk past the girl and into the circle of Haya's waiting arm. He did it, though. His control was better than anyone's. Haya guided him into the same soundproofed room Eli had the previous night. She closed and locked the door, completely blocking out the outside. The only thing that illuminated the room now were seven candles. Four perched on candle holders hanging on the four walls, three on the nightstand beside the neatly made bed. She folded herself on to the mattress like a huge, beautiful cat and considered Jellal with her kohl rimmed eyes. "You are a very stupid man."

Jellal laughed. It sounded as humorless as it felt.

"Madam is _furious_ that Adisa is gone. She hunts for the one that took him. The one that hunts for you."

"Erza."

"The fire. Yes."

"Madam Genève—does she know who she hunts for?" Jellal asked.

"All she knows is it is a woman with fiery hair," Haya said. "Do you know what kind of game you play, _Iblis_? You must. You wear the mark of my kin."

Jellal straightened his shoulders, his plans rearranging. "I want to see Madam." Damn Eli and Julian's aspirations, Madam Genève would die before she found Erza.

"You want to see her so you can kill her. She is no fool. You shouldn't be, either, because the moment she deigns to entertain you, you'll know your last breath."

"If she were truly going to kill me I'd be dead," Jellal said. "Twice she's had the opportunity."

Haya shook her head. "You know how she loves to play."

 _Yes._ There was a quaking that tried to start in his shoulders. He bludgeoned it to death with his will. "Should you be talking to me like this? Your words are close to heresy."

"This room is protected from everything," Haya said. "The only way for her to know what is happening is to watch."

Jellal's heart skipped a strange beat. "And? Is she watching?"

"Most assuredly, which means she'll know I lied if you sit there as doe-eyed as a babe, Mr. Fernandez."

"What?"

"I told Addy you were a special guest. I'm going to tell Madam Genève that you wanted to buy. Addy will be silent because he fears me and my magic, but if we do nothing, Madam will want to know why we just sit and talk. There is one thing she understands, though, correct?" She grabbed her sheer purple veil and started undoing it. "Sit, Mr. Fernandez. We'll work while you tell me the true reason you're here. Surely it can't be to request to see Madam again. Even you must know that approach will never work."

He started to sweat when he realized what she meant. "I—"

"She thinks you're here to buy. So buy. Or die." The veil dropped down on one side, revealing her face. She was fine featured, delicately boned. Her skin was rich in colour, dark. Her nose was small, button-like with a dusting of freckles, her lips full, her mouth wide. _Good for smiles_.

"Why are you doing this? Why would you lie for me?"

"Because I pity fools," Haya said. "Because you're a handsome man. Because I too grow weary of her meanness. Lay in my bed and tell me your woes, perhaps we can find a way to help each other."

"Help each other?"

"Maybe." Her eyes flashed.

"I—" Jellal tripped again. His stomach felt heavy.

"Very soon Madam is going to order that you're taken out of here, Mr. Fernandez. I can't say what state you'll be in when that happens. While you're here, play a game worth playing."

That was one of Madam's sayings. ' _If you must play, play a game worth playing_.' The Tower of Heaven flashed through his mind. His chessboard, the pieces he'd custom carved and painted all by himself. He'd taken special care with Erza's. _Obsession is a thing we live and breathe._

"Mr. Fernandez." Haya's eyes were dark liquored, inquiring. "Yes." She tugged on a small bow over her shoulder; it seemed to be keeping everything in place. "Or no?" The fabric fell off of her skin and pooled on the bed, lighter than air. She was as full-bodied as Jellal imagined. "If it's yes, then I invite you to tell me your purpose here. Maybe I can be of assistance."

 _You can do this. You can do this._ And Erza? He could still feel her lips on his like a brand. _I don't know if I can do this_. "You're not trying to trick me?"

"I try not to deal in tricks," Haya said. "This is dangerous for me, too."

There was a real spark of fear in her eye. Jellal found himself wanting to believe her. "And if I'm here to ask questions? You'll answer them?"

"Anything I can answer I will."

"And what is your price?" Jellal asked. "What do you get from this?"

Haya licked her lips. "You'll think it's foolish."

"Name it," Jellal insisted. "You won't be mocked."

She smiled slowly, wistfully. "Pomegranates."

It took him several seconds to process that. "Fruits?" Not freedom, not blood. But fruits.

Her eyes lit up. "The most delicious fruit from my homeland."

"You could go to the market, or beg one of your customers to bring you one." They were _rare_ in this part of the world, but not unheard of. Surely a woman like Haya could find some poor slob to bring her one.

She shook her head. "None will sell to me. Madam has told all of the shop keeps and all of my customers. They won't dare defy her."

"Why?" It seemed like such an irrational thing.

"For no other reason than to deny me one of my favorite treats," Haya said. "It was a punishment for a misstep long ago. I thought as you, Mr. Fernandez, it's a silly thing, it wouldn't bother me. It has been a very long time, though, and I find all of the things I've been denied are starting to build so they are as a mountain now."

Jellal scrubbed his face. _Fucking fruit is going to bring Madam down_. No, it wasn't fruit. It was her cruelty. Obedience could be bought, but not loyalty. "Very well. I will find you ten pomegranates if you answer my question."

"Just one will do. Greed is the downfall of many." She stood. "Am I to take that as agreement, then? You will be purchasing my services?" Her body was fuller than most. She came in and pressed against him. Jellal sweated more even though it was cool inside this room.

"I am often hailed as one of Madam's best," Haya said. She had a lot up on Celia. She knew how to sell herself, cupping his cheek, tracing his lip with her thumb, rubbing against him while she fluttered her eyes and purred in a way that was practiced, yes, but also effortless.

"You are ready already," she cooed, feeling him rigid against her. She rose on tiptoe and found his mouth. Jellal closed his eyes. It did little to satiate the heaviness in his chest _. Not Erza_ , his mind screamed even if his body said yes. _Not Erza._ It was easier kissing the man. So different. And it never had to go any further. But this? Clarity shot through the haze.

 _It's another one of Madam's traps_. To see how far he was willing to go. Maybe the offer of sex was. He thought Haya was genuine with her requests, though.

"She's expecting me to run, isn't she?" Jellal eased back enough to ask.

"She expected you to flee long ago and reveal yourself to be a coward," Haya whispered into his ear. She kissed his jawline. Jellal pinched his eyes closed and dragged up every ounce of reserve.

 _Not Erza._

It wasn't enough.

"Illusion," he choked.

"You don't want to see me, Mr. Fernandez?" Haya whispered. "So many men want the finest exotic Madam can offer."

Jellal just stared at her.

She didn't ask again. Turning to the cabinet beside the bed she pulled out a small oval container and took out a slice of green. She sashayed back, looking like a dark skinned wraith. "Open your mouth."

He did but pulled back again before she could place the rectangle on his tongue. "Wait. Before we begin, answer my question. Tell me where to find Eli."

Haya's dark brows went up. "Why?"

He decided that truth was the best way. "Because I believe we have business."

"It is dark days with _Iblis_ gathering." She shuddered.

"Tell me, Haya. You swore to answer my questions."

Haya smiled sadly. "He is a monster through and through, and he'll always do her bidding. I can't see a day where you two may have business."

" _Why_?" Jellal asked. "Why is he her guard dog?"

"I cannot say."

He squeezed her wrist hard enough she winced. He wondered if Madam was watching, what she thought when she saw that. _Maybe that you turned into one of the rough men she liked to sell you off to_. So vaguely he remembered closing his fingers around Erza's delicate throat and couldn't even fully disagree. _Don't think about that_. It was easier to be a monster if he already deigned to put on that face. _Civility. Kindness. Humanity_. The words were a mantra. Each one of them had a heavy meaning, but he'd be fucked if he could fully recall how to appreciate the weight of the words _. Just focus_. "I'm starting to think our agreement is pointless."

She saw something in his face she didn't fully like. "I only mean that is his tale to tell. But you will find him in the Hive this evening."

"Madam's buying more slaves?" Jellal asked immediately.

Haya shrugged. "The _Iblis_ might be there for pleasure."

His Hive experience came back and slapped him in the face. The room full of naked bodies, the sweat, the moans, the girl on her knees locking eyes with him as he passed while she sucked a man dry. "They'll never let me in."

Haya touched his face with her free hand, covering the bottom half of his tattoo. "Now you look just like a man that wants to make sure all of the sales go smoothly, Mr. Fernandez."

Still gripping her wrist, Jellal lifted Haya's hand and guided the strip of Illusion onto his tongue.

* * *

Leering best described how Julian stared at her. Erza felt indecently exposed sitting there in her high-necked yellow dress and low heels. She'd worn worse, way, way worse, and had men stare at her for longer, be more inappropriate, try to grab her, but Julian... He was different. Unsettling. Not in the same way Ichiya was, but in the way of a dog on the verge of rabidness. She didn't fear he'd jump over the table and try to tear her clothes off; she feared that he'd just snap.

He didn't, though. He was all smiles and charm, being respectful and courteous. Everything he did said he wasn't a danger, but she could see a dangerous man lurking beneath that façade. The question was how much of a push was needed to bring it out?

Clearing her throat, she brought herself to ask, "Jellal was with you this evening. Where did he go after your meeting?"

Julian shrugged. "He didn't say."

Erza got angry all over again. And worried. "He's been gone for a long time."

"He'll return, I'm sure," Julian said. "I don't think he's gone far."

"How would you know?"

"I make it my business to keep my eye on people of interest and threat. Mr. Fernandez qualifies on both ends. If he was making trouble I would know. If he was in danger I would know." Julian took a sip of his wine. When he swallowed he said, "Tell me about yourself, Erza. The armours you wear, they're magic, correct?"

"Yes."

"Elaborate. How do you use them? Are the armours themselves magic, or is it your magic that makes them special?"

"…Both," Erza said cautiously. "I don them using requip, a type of spatial magic."

He was sitting forward, hanging onto her every word. Erza felt like she was being catalogued. Men like Julian York were always looking for the best way to use people. "And weapons?"

"Mainly swords, but I am skilled in the use of others as well."

He opened his mouth to pepper her with more questions but the door came open and Natalie slipped through. The woman was dressed in something that made Erza's ears roar. Nothing was hidden. She tried to linger examining Natalie's body, but she got caught on her face. Natalie's eyes were wider than Erza had seen them before, her skin slightly pale with panic.

"Julian—"

"Natalie, I'm having a private meeting." Julian didn't bother taking his eyes off Erza.

Natalie came to his side and gripped his chair with white-knuckled hands. "Please, Julian."

He noted the terror in her voice and finally deigned to look at her. "What's wrong?"

Erza tensed, fighting to prepare herself for anything Natalie might say. _That Jellal ran into trouble_?

"Sienna is gone. She was supposed to be entertaining Mr. Claret tonight, but he said a man came and took her away. She didn't want to go," Natalie spilled.

"Which man?" Julian snapped. Natalie had all of his attention now.

The brunette shook her head. "I don't know. What if it's one of Madam Genève's? She can't go back to the Vault, Julian."

Julian cussed fluently. "It wouldn't be Genève. She wouldn't be foolish enough to do such a thing."

"Not that she'd admit, anyway," Natalie said. Her fingers were red from how much she'd rung them.

Julian clenched his jaw and stood. He barely glanced at Erza. "Excuse me." Before he left the private room in a swirl of irritation he looked at Natalie and said pointedly, "Stay here out of trouble, Natalie."

Natalie didn't get a chance to reply. The door slammed closed. Erza closed her eyes and invited her Heart Kreuz onto her body. When the magic cleared, Natalie stared at her; the girl's eyes were wet with tears.

"Where was her last known location?"

"On the eastern balcony."

"Overlooking Scarlet Lake."

Natalie nodded. "But she's not in Gomorrah any longer. Mr. Claret said he saw them leave."

Erza released a breath. "I'll find her. It could be she's with Jellal—"

"Jellal left Gomorrah an hour ago," Natalie said. "Alone."

Erza's blood ran cold. "What?"

She nodded.

"To go _where_?" She had an idea. The rage was back full swing.

"I don't know," Natalie admitted. "He didn't say. That doesn't matter, though. He's not in trouble, Sienna is."

 _She's right_. Maybe. As far as she knew, Jellal hadn't been carted off by a strange man. She grunted in aggravation. "I will find Sienna." And then she would go after Jellal and she would let him know _exactly_ how she felt about being stood up and lied to. When she was done he was going to wish he'd told her to leave all those days ago.

Natalie said, "I'll come with you."

Erza looked at her in her see-through dress and high heels. Her eyes, despite the panic, looked glazed. "You're not dressed appropriately, nor are you of sound mind."

Natalie's mouth dropped into a frown. She bent and tugged off her shoes, throwing them to the floor. "I'm fine. Let's go."

"Natalie—Julian told you to wait."

"Does it look like I give a _fuck_ what he said, Erza? Sienna can't go back to the Vault," Natalie hissed, suddenly fierce. She was a different woman in that moment. "And she can't be left with one of Madam's thugs, either. They'll kill her."

"Julian doesn't think it was one of this Genève's."

"Julian can think what he wants," Natalie said. "I, on the other hand, will make my judgement after I find Sienna. Now, you can say whatever you want; it's not going to stop me from looking, too. We either go together or we go separately."

And that was love. Erza tried to drum up something comforting. "She's not helpless. I've taught her the basics of protecting herself."

If Natalie's glare was a dagger, Erza would be bleeding out on the floor.

Erza sighed. "When we find her, stay out of the way."

Natalie didn't agree nor disagree. She led the way out of the private dining room, through the restaurant and into the casino. Minutes passed with only the sound of slots and laughter between them. For so long they'd been silent, Erza thought the brunette was too tense to talk, but that wasn't the case.

"You weren't wearing your gift."

Walking through Gomorrah in her armour invited attention. Erza weathered the curious looks. "Gift?"

Natalie's head rolled on her shoulders, chestnut curls catching in her long golden earring. "I left it on your bed."

Erza recalled the rectangular box. "I saw it, but I didn't open it. Why would you leave me a gift?"

"Sienna says I overstepped my bounds," Natalie explained. "She said that even though you said so, you didn't want to be kissed. Or touched. Not by me. It was meant as an apology."

She actually sounded sorry, too. "It's…fine. I just—I wasn't myself," Erza said. Her ears were hot. This kind of conversation made her uncomfortable.

The doors to the casino came into view. Natalie got to them first, pushing them open wide. The warm summer air rushed through the creases in Erza's armour. Her brow immediately prickled in sweat.

"Because you were high?" Natalie asked.

"Yes," Erza agreed.

"Being high doesn't make us do things we don't want to do," Natalie said. "It just makes us brave enough to do them."

Erza chewed over _that_ for a good long while in silence.

* * *

Even lying stationary in a bed, the Illusion hangover was worse than usual. Jellal's head felt funny, his tongue like sandpaper and his eyes wanted to slip closed. He forced them open. It wasn't yet midnight, but if he tried he could sleep until the next evening right then.

And you'd wake in a bed of dirt, buried under Innisfil because Madam finally had enough.

Next to him, Haya counted out her payment from a wad of cash Jellal had thrown her way. Thousands of dollars lighter, he rolled off the bed and dressed. Satisfied, Haya rose and helped, tightening his tie. Her face kept wavering, her nose becoming long and slender, and then turning button-like once more, her hair shot through with red, then turned darker than night. "You'll need confidence tonight, Mr. Fernandez. And conviction. And a prayer that the _Iblis_ doesn't feel volatile."

Jellal pulled from her grasp, unable to touch her any longer. "Thank you." His voice sounded strange, pinched and used.

"I haven't given you anything to be thankful for," Haya told him. "Be cautious and be alert. I'm sure Miss Vander will be on the lookout for the man that killed her people. It seems you have many enemies."

Nothing ever changed. "It'll always be that way."

"For men like you? Yes." She grabbed her shawl and started dressing herself again. Though it just looked like a square of fabric to Jellal, she had her body covered in mere seconds. Then her inky hair. Then her smile. She looked mysterious and unknown a beat later, only her darkly lined eyes visible. "Come."

Jellal followed her from the room. Outside in the waiting room, the chairs were empty, completely devoid of everyone.

"Slow night?"

"No," Haya said. "We made a special welcome for you."

Jellal's skin crawled.

"This was the best way your night could have turned out. Shush now." She threw open the exit and led Jellal out onto the mica walkway. That was where he saw her, silhouetted against the dull tree lights. Nothing had changed. She was still terribly beautiful, beautifully terrible, and he hadn't even seen her face yet. His legs turned to rubber. His heart felt like exploding. Violence in the form of magic gathered in his hand, a crushing weight meant to kill. Altairis. Simon's spell. The life-taker. He felt sick. _I can't use it._

 _Afraid._

He could. Because he was a monster.

The light shifted and Madam was gone. Winked from existence.

Jellal let out a gasping, pained breath and searched the area; Haya hadn't slowed.

"Where is she?"

Haya glanced over her shoulder. "She?"

"Madam Genève."

"I told you a hundred times, she won't see you."

"She—" _was there_. Or maybe not. Doubt niggled. _More hallucinations_? The kind that made him want to release enough magic to do the kind of damage that was irreversible?

"She what, Jellal?" Haya asked. Her voice was saccharine.

He swallowed what felt like liquid fire and released the magic he gathered. "Nothing." _Maybe it's the drugs_. Or maybe he was just going insane. _Going_?

He left Haya there without saying goodbye.

* * *

A/N: Hello. Two important notes: 1. I fucked up. Well, I often fuck up, but in this case it is pertaining to the story. Let's pretend in the last chapter the name "Morgan" actually said "Nolan." And look... It actually does say that now.

2\. In five days' time you'll be wondering if Freyja forgot about you. The answer, of course, will be no. I am going away for four days starting Friday. Hopefully on my return I'll have something cooked up for you.

Enjoy.


	19. Chapter 19

The moon, looking like an off-white pearl, illuminated the ground, making it almost as bright as predawn. Beneath Erza's feet was gravel. Her boots crunched with every step. Ahead, Natalie walked like she was possessed, barefooted and all. Erza stopped wondering if her feet hurt. Either she was too high to tell or she was too focused to care.

The path Natalie took her down was lined with hedges so dense all but the brightest light from Scarlet Lake was blotted out. Gomorrah towered behind them, ominous, glowing, _present_ , until the hedges got so thick that it was not.

"Where are we going?" It seemed blasphemous to speak so freely, so _loudly,_ after so long quiet.

Natalie was erratic in the way a hummingbird was, glancing over her shoulder with quick movements. Her eyes were glossy like marbles. "To Scarlet Lake first." She hurried off again, never staying in one place long.

Erza rushed to catch up. Her armour squealed with every move. She thought of dismissing it, but she didn't want to be exposed like that, especially when she was feeding off Natalie's agitation. "Scarlet Lake? Why?"

"Because in Innisfil, if you want to find something hidden, you start with Scarlet Lake."

"What do you mean?"

Natalie chanced another glance over her shoulder. This time her eyes weren't like marbles, they were black pits. "The lake keeps what it takes, Erza. Everyone knows that. If Sienna was taken by someone that wants to do her harm, this is where she'd be."

Erza almost tripped over an errant boulder that Natalie seemed to glide around. She cussed and renewed her attention. The path curled. Natalie slipped out of sight for two whole breaths. Erza came around the corner and nearly ploughed into her. She skipped back several steps. On this side of things, the hedges grabbed and funneled the light of the moon so she had no trouble discerning that Natalie had her head tipped to the sky, her eyes closed while power rolled out from her body. It was a strange kind of magic, the kind that made Erza's skin crawl and her stomach jostle with revulsion.

"What are you doing?" Erza asked. The lake was nearby. Not only could Erza smell the water, that strange amalgamation of detritus, fish and plant, but she could _hear_ it. The waves. Was it windy? She couldn't tell from where she was. _It's magic._

Natalie's eyes flicked open. "Looking."

A scream pierced the night. And a gunshot. Once. Twice. Thrice. The power died. The sound stopped. The shooting, the waves. All was silent.

Mouth a flat line, Natalie started moving again, faster than before.

"Wait!" Who knew who was shooting? "Natalie, you can't—"

She didn't care, racing away from Erza with abandon. Erza started off, a few paces behind.

The pathway dead ended. Natalie swung left, taking a way that was so overgrown Erza didn't see it at first. The physical world seemed to mean nothing to the brunette. She leapt over stretching roots, ducked under branches gone awry, slipped through vines that tried to trip Erza.

"Wait," Erza huffed. "Natalie!"

Another dead end appeared. Natalie didn't slow then, either. She turned, angling herself such that she was running sideways for two whole steps, then she disappeared, slipped into an opening Erza didn't see until she was practically on top of it because the angle was wrong. Scarlet Lake's eerie, unnatural light shot through the hole, igniting the world. Erza ploughed through the opening, less than graceful. Her foot caught on the opposite side and she went down hard, landing mostly on top of something sopping wet, squishy and cold. She threw out her hands to catch herself. One of her palms scraped through the gravel and sand, abrading it. The other…

She froze, hand shoved mostly through Adisa's ruined chest. Not only had he been sliced open, chin to navel, he'd been shot several times. Eye-to-eye with the man meant she saw his dead white orbs staring up at the moon as if they had something in common.

She grunted in disgust, she couldn't help it. Her fingers were covered in thick things. She didn't remember making the conscious effort to stand, but she was vertical before she could even blink. And now there was a different kind of threat facing her. The gun that had gone off seconds ago was pointed in her face by a man she thought should be familiar.

Dressed in a dark grey suit, he had the same sort of tattoo Jellal did. His hair was black, another tattoo around his throat the purple of plums. _'We'll tell them she's a maiden.'_

Erza's heart crashed. _It's him._ The one that had painstakingly dressed her for the Hive. The one that wanted to go behind Madam Genève's back and get a decent price for her at auction. The one that had killed his partner because Erza's hair was a colour he thought the world would enjoy.

"Natalie!"

It was then Erza realized that the man held Sienna tightly, his arm cinched around her throat. "Shut the fuck up." His voice shook, his whole body, actually. He was pale. Terrified. He kept alternating between aiming at Erza and Adisa.

"Natalie!" Sienna called the brunette but also looked at Adisa, like he was going to stand and walk.

"Let her go!" Natalie came to life, rushing at the man until he stopped aiming at Erza and pressed the barrel of the gun to Sienna's temple.

"Stop."

The brunette halted as if stapled in place.

Sienna sobbed, cheeks red and wet. Steps away, Scarlet Lake pulsed agitatedly. Things moved beneath the water's surface, threatening to burst through. Erza's every nerve end felt repulsed. More than anything, she didn't want to know what was in that water.

Whatever it was, it seemed to scare the gunman. He swung his gun in that direction and took a step away, closer to the hedges. His eyes were wide, his chest rising and falling way, way too quickly. Erza used the distraction to get closer. He was twitchy, though, aiming back at her just as quick.

"Stop moving."

Erza halted, trying to think of a way to turn this situation to her advantage. "What do you want?"

"You."

"Me?" she repeated.

He nodded hurriedly. "Yeah, you. I thought I was fucked when I grabbed the wrong girl tonight, but here you are anyway."

"Grabbed the wrong girl for _what_?" Erza demanded.

He smirked; it was manic and fast. "There is a price on your head and I plan to collect. This time I'll actually get my freedom when I hand you off."

"Oh, it didn't work out for you the last time you sold me?" Erza spat. She didn't know the man's name and felt at a disadvantage for it.

He said, "Dee Vander got word of the deal and was worried Madam Genève would be angry if she gave me the money, so she only dealt with the bitch directly. I've been punished every night since for going behind her back. I won't do it anymore."

Flashes of that night came back to Erza. Carted through the streets, handed off to men, too weak to move, too sick, too drugged. Helpless. She felt rage, cold, calculated. _Wait._ "Sienna isn't responsible for your poor decisions," Erza said in a voice that was much calmer than she ever dreamed it could be. "Release her and deal with me directly."

Something slipped out of the surface of the water. Pale, paler than a slug. He aimed at it and shot, a small, weak whine in his throat; Erza jolted but kept her eyes firmly on the man ahead of her. _One thing at a time_. The thing went under again. Sienna shivered and moaned in fear. The man panted. "I'll release her when you're in her place. Stop wasting time."

Erza's magic was at the ready, a sword on the brink of forming. _Wait. Wait._ "I'll come. You promise to let her go?"

"Yes. You're the only one that's going to buy my freedom," the man said. "I don't care about her."

Erza came closer.

"Wait." He looked so torn, looking towards the lake, at war with himself. "Take off your armour."

The redhead paused. "My armour?"

He nodded. "Remove it."

"I—"

He dug the gun into Sienna's temple. " _Now_."

She immediately reached for her magic to undress. The man must have felt it because he went whiter than a ghost. The gun was gone from Sienna's temple. A shot rang out, the bullet slamming into the ground inches away from Erza's feet. Natalie sobbed, Sienna looked close to fainting. Erza tensed.

The man said, "No games. No tricks. No magic. Armour. Off. Hurry, before more of those things come."

 _Things_? There was no time to ask. Erza breathed out and nodded. It had been a long time since she took her armour off in a conventional way. Her hands were surprisingly steady unclasping the hinges at her shoulders. The shoulder plates came off and clanged, dropping to the sand. Then she worked at her side. Those hinges were larger. The metal squealed. It popped open. The night was definitely cooler without the metal cinched to her body. Erza didn't give herself a chance to appreciate it. It was hard breaking eye contact so she could lift the breastplate over her head, but she managed. It landed on Scarlet Lake's sand and gravel beach with a great clatter that made everyone jump.

The gunman took a moment to gather himself then waved her on again. "Come."

She felt so barren. _You're not as exposed as you think._ A thought and she'd be protected again. _Am I faster than a bullet, though?_

She didn't _really_ plan on finding out. When she was close enough the man shoved Sienna away and grabbed Erza instead. His fingers were rough digging into her shoulders, her hair getting pulled in the process. She winced and nearly tripped as he pulled her tight to his chest. His breathing was erratic; he'd really geared himself up for this. He was sweaty, too, smelling faintly like body odor. _He's nervous._ Maybe this was the first time he'd done something like this before, taking a hostage. He wasn't a killer by nature, maybe not even a cruel man, just someone who felt helpless and was taking control anyway they could.

Understanding it didn't make Erza any less furious.

Sienna stumbled away into Natalie's arms. Erza thought the two would disappear, but Natalie stood in place, a war going on behind her darkly lined eyes. The water still roiled, on the brink of giving up its secrets; the wind whipped, the sand at Erza's feet kicked up and twirled. Magic permeated the air, both different and yet still somehow the same as what she felt before. _It's Natalie's._ Erza understood that the sand was her doing. And the water?

 _That's not water magic_. There was something _in_ Scarlet Lake. Something she commanded.

Erza could chase her tail for hours trying to figure out what it was.

"Come on, start walking." The man pulled her roughly away from both the lake and Natalie, the gun jammed into her temple now. He kept his eyes on the brunette, though. Maybe he felt that magic, too.

Natalie pinched her lips together. "Julian doesn't like girls being taken from Gomorrah. If you release her, he might not kill you."

He snorted. "This is a bitch that got too big for her britches. She doesn't belong in Gomorrah, that's why she was at the Hive."

Erza bristled. The gun was cold against her temple. Gun oil was in her nose. She imagined that her skin was slicked with it, too. That was sweat. _You're scared._ Being scared never stopped her, though. She'd faced worse things than a man with a gun. _Like Kyoka?_ Like Jellal at his most tainted.

The man continued. "Go back to Julian and tell him that he can't have everything in Innisfil, there has to be enough left for the rest of us to make a living, too. It'll be good for him to remember that." He was focused on Natalie. _You'll never get another chance,_ Erza thought. She'd have to be quick, though. And brutal. Gathering a sword wasn't the hard bit. No, the hard bit was making it find a home in the man's body that would both incapacitate him and keep him alive.

Natalie's eyes found hers. There was an understanding that passed between them. The ground erupted, the bleached sand rising in a wicked storm. The man holding Erza shouted. Erza let her feet go from beneath her just in time to avoid a bullet in the brain. The gun's report was nearly lost to the _whoosh_ of sand. Grit hit Erza's face, got into her mouth, her hair. She kept her eyes closed.

Her sword came to her hand. Gritting her teeth, she swung in a wide, low arc. The blade dug into his leg. She could have brought it all the way through to sever the bone. She didn't. Muscle was enough. His scream did what the gunshot could not, penetrating the storm. He collapsed, taken down by gravity.

The sandstorm died. When the last grain of sand fell, Erza opened her eyes. The man was on the ground, bleeding and moaning. He'd forgotten his gun just inches away from his hand. He breathed in short, shallow gasps. His leg was gushing. With more generosity than she felt, Erza tore a large chunk of her shirt off at the hem and crouched by the man's side, ready to tourniquet.

"Being in jail will mean you're no longer at this woman's mercy." It wasn't what he had in mind, but it was a type of freedom.

Through gritted teeth he said, "She'll find me there, too. I'll be in long enough for the healers to mend my leg, and then I'll be returned, ready to be sold to anyone she chooses. I won't. I won't go back."

Erza met his eyes. They were blue, like cornflower. He was a handsome man in the same way Jellal was, all of his features clearly defined, well structured. His voice belonged to another country; they all did. The Vault. The Vault. The Vault was a place where the world could be had for a price. The pieces clicked together for Erza. The tattoo. It meant something in this place that it had never meant before.

She was so stunned by her revelation that she hardly registered when he reached for his gun. His fingers didn't quite make contact, and yet a shot, so loud, so _near_ , echoed off every available surface. Erza's heart tried to explode.

The man's chest succeeded where her heart did not. Red. Everything was red. Natalie screamed. Sienna caught her breath. Erza stared in disbelief. It took her too long to throw everything into a linear line. Finally, she remembered herself and turned, ready to ward off the next attack.

Julian York stood there, looking grim and decidedly disgusted. There was a man at his side with a smoking gun in his hand.

"Alright, Miss Scarlet?"

Erza wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to throttle Julian who maybe hadn't taken this man's life, but okayed it. She only stood. There were things on her hand that she wanted to wash off. _Not yet._ She needed to find Jellal, first.

Scarlet Lake was still.

* * *

The butcher shop was just as dusty and abandoned as ever, tile floors lackluster, the smell of blood still permeating the air. Jellal breathed shallowly, too easily sickened. The place was empty, the tile floor lackluster. Nothing had changed since the last time he'd been here, yet it seemed he had more trouble walking to the freezer door, knowing what he'd find beyond it. His feet were wooden. His head was swirling, Illusion still trying to take hold of his thoughts. The edges of the room crawled with things he couldn't quite put a name to. He kept his eyes forward, sure that they weren't real. _Just like Madam Genève wasn't._ Without effort he recalled stepping out of the Vault and seeing her there, hair lifting in the gentle breeze, the locks so pale they were near white. Perfectly he could imagine her beautiful green eyes narrowed, her lips, always painted a gentle mauve, plumped in a sulk. He took the hallucination a step further and imagined what she'd do if she hadn't just faded away.

Run her fingers through his hair. Bring him in to her private quarters like in the olden days. _'Jellal, you're magnifique,'_ she would whisper while he practiced his ministrations on her. " _Mon préféré."_ My favorite. He was always her favorite.

The freezer door closed, throwing him into the dark.

 _Not dark._ He took the first step onto the stairs and the lightning bug-style lights made themselves known, it was only his own thoughts bringing him into the night. The steps sloped gently. It smelled damp down there, and faintly like bodies. He placed his palm against the rough brick wall and used it as a guide. Nearly no noise made it from the Hive through the tunnels, not until he was a little closer, then he heard the pounding of dark music. He wanted to touch his eye just to make sure that half of his tattoo was covered but refrained, afraid of smearing the makeup and wiping it away.

The stairs evened into a landing that spilled into that wide, tunnel-fed chamber. By the light of a single torch, Jellal saw the tunnel he dragged Andre down. His body was long gone, surely, but he imagined the man stumbling from the darkness, wet and red.

Shadows moved as if bringing his thoughts to life. He looked away from the place, focusing instead on the two very alive men that flanked either side of the Hive's metal door. They wore no tattoos, and nearly no clothes, as Andre and Eris had. Dee Vander had a type. One was olive skinned, the other pale. Both had dark hair and more muscle than most.

Jellal set aside his internal demons, ignored the hallucinations and found his liar's face. "Evening, gentlemen."

They were stone-faced. "Sir."

Jellal expected them to see Madam's enforcer tattoo and step aside. They didn't. He tried walking through with confidence. They remained in his way. "Excuse me."

They remained immovable. The olive skinned one asked, "What business do you have here tonight?"

Nervousness tried to take him. Jellal hardened his resolve. "Madam sent me to oversee tonight's purchase."

The talkative one said, "One of you is already here."

Jellal said, "Madam asked that I make an appearance to ensure he doesn't get… distracted. The last time he was here he was enthralled by Miss Vander's sweat room."

The paler of the men smiled slyly. "It has attracted many." Then he sobered. "But I cannot permit you to enter if you're interested in punishing him. That kind of thing is best done in your own house, as to not scare the customers."

Jellal inclined his head. "Of course. I only want to ensure that he's doing as he's supposed to. No action will be taken on him in this establishment. You have my word, and Madam's."

They both looked undecided.

"Madam and Miss Vander have a respect, an understanding and a trust, correct? Or am I to return to Madam and tell her that's not the case?" Jellal challenged.

"Miss Vander has respect for Madam Genève," the olive one said. "But things have been strange—" Blankness came over his face. Not just his, but his partner's, too.

Jellal looked at him in confusion. "Are you ill?"

Life came back to his eyes. "You may enter. But if you cause trouble, we will remove you, regardless if Madam Genève is displeased." Olive skin grabbed the huge metal door and pulled it open, welcoming Jellal into a favorite haunt of many depraved.

Jellal stepped past him warily, suspicious of the change, but unwilling to look a gift horse in the mouth.

The Hive was the same as the last time he was there, dull with red and black lights. Leather couches, coffee tables littered with alcohol and drugs. Pills and powders, patches and clear liquids in eyes droppers that beautiful people dropped beneath their tongues with hands that were steady first but shook after medicated. Laughter and chatter. Moans. The smoke. The smell. The Hive was beauty and sin. The stage was dark for now.

Jellal set his eyes across the room and focused on the hole in the wall that led to the sweat room. A woman wearing a golden dress swayed in his path, an eye dropper in hand, a smile on her mouth.

"Want to play?"

She was already well dosed. Jellal took her by the wrists and dodged. "I have some place to be, madam. Thank you."

She let him get away, her eyes set on someone different. No one else stopped him. They were all wary, smiling first then sobering when they saw his modified tattoo. Madam's enforcers were feared. It was a trick that never would have worked when he was a child, but now things were different. He could pretend to be anyone he wanted to be.

He stepped into the sweat room. There were no doors, no curtains. It smelled like people. It smelled like debauchery. It smelled like every night at the Vault. It was full to the brim with men and women and some in-between. Several eyes turned his way. Jellal stood stationary, searching the crowd for Eli. Women snorted drugs off glass tables then went to their partners and did things that would make most blush. Men did the same and had what they liked. Everything was in excess, from the fat globe grapes that overflowed from swirling blue bowls to the fine clothing that was torn from bodies. This was where gluttony was birthed.

It was a man and woman that broke their embrace and came to him. They were nude, sweaty and swollen lipped. The woman's body was lithe, her breasts small, her waist tight and narrow. Her hair was messy and damp, dark brown. Her partner was redheaded, clean shaven, nineteen at most. He came behind Jellal and, without a word spoken between them, started working on the buttons holding his burgundy shirt together. Having another human pressed against him was torturous. And then there were two, the woman leaning against his front, mouth seeking.

Jellal's skin burned with sensitivity and revulsion. Hands. Sliding up his thighs, his groin, over his stomach, his chest. Hands were everywhere and all he wanted was Erza.

The woman hemmed her mouth against his, the hot noise in her chest the first sound Jellal heard from her.

 _I can't. I can't._ He pushed away from her. The man at his back was there, keeping him from getting far by sliding his hands inside Jellal's shirt. They moved toward his belt. _No._

"Stop."

The woman bent and kissed his chest like he spoke not at all. _Maybe you didn't._ She grabbed his cock. He pushed at her. His hands slid right on through. She changed, her hair turning scarlet, her breasts getting fuller, her waist shapelier. Her eyes got warm, her mouth generous. And then she was beautiful. In seconds that beautiful face started to bleed from that generous mouth, from those warm eyes. A flood of blood. A torrent.

"Jellal," she choked in Erza's voice.

She had the same sort of compressed look Simon did after being hit by altairis. Panic paralyzed his heart.

 _Stop. It's another hallucination._ He closed his eyes and breathed.

 _In and out._

 _In._

 _Out._

He opened them. The scene was gone, replaced by a grinning, mostly undressed Eli, proving that it wasn't a hallucination. At least, not the typical kind. Jellal patted his front. All of his clothes were exactly as they should be, rumpled but in place.

People were staring at him. Jellal shivered violently, close to snapping. The urge to kill Eli was almost overwhelming. How many times would he be forced to see Erza like that? _Be calm._

"Hello, Eli." He was expected. Suddenly, the reaction of the men at the entrance made sense. Eli paved the way for him, welcomed him into this place.

Eli's face was split by a wide, shit-eating grin. Getting under people's skin was a pastime he seemed to enjoy. "Jellal. I see you managed to make it in. Come to sample some of Dee's goods? I don't know if you're really welcomed in the Hive. Or..." He paused. "Does she not know it was you that carved up Andre?" There were two women behind him. One wrapped her arm around his naked waist and tried to pull him down to the couch at his back. Eli pushed her back.

She went back to the way she was, playing with the blonde at her side.

Jellal looked away from them. "I think we can help each other."

"Pretty sure we can't."

Jellal glanced around the overfull sweat room. Some people watched them warily. "Yes. We shouldn't talk here, though. It's a conversation best had in private."

"Do you think I'm stupid?" Eli asked. "I'm not the kind of guy you can surprise into taking the long nap. Listen close, buddy. Madam's generosity only extended to last night. You're alive because she said so, but she's not going to be so sad if you start fucking with me and find yourself dead."

Jellal didn't flinch, though it was easy to fall back to the place where he did _. I was a monster before I was a man. I'm the worst thing in Innisfil, not Madam Genève. Remember Haya's words. I am an_ Iblis. _Remember the tower, remember the council. Remember all of the others that lay beneath your feet._ Madam Genève was a woman. A terror that haunted his dreams. But a woman all the same.

"It's sweet that you think remembering your graveyard helps you be a big boy."

Jellal didn't flush with the intrusion of privacy; it was something he was used to. Erik never gave him any, ever. "Let me help you."

Eli snorted. "You couldn't ever help me, you're too afraid of your own shadow, and that's why Madam will always step over you."

Relying on Eli's tendency to read his mind, Jellal thought, _It's not just me. Julian York wants to offer you a deal._ He was sure Eli heard him because the man's face went blank. He was considering something, very hard at that.

"Maybe we'll have a conversation."

Turning back to the couch, Eli ignored the dark haired and fine boned girl that wanted his attention earlier. She was too enthralled to care that he snatched his shirt from beneath her knees, her face buried between the blonde's legs. He threw the material over his shoulders and started toward Jellal. "You really better hope you're not fucking around, because those girls there? They were real hard to come by."

Jellal looked around the room overflowing with willings.

"None of them are filthy enough," Eli offered. He led the way out of the Hive.

At the exit, Dee's men watched them come out curiously.

"Didn't find anything Madam was looking for?" the pale one asked.

Eli replied, "Just going for a smoke, Em."

"Sure, Eli."

Eli stopped mid-step and swung back around on his heel. "Hey, you know what? I just had a thought." The light skinned man looked at him suspiciously. Jellal watched his muscles tense, his knuckles tighten. Eli Tase wasn't a man that was well-liked anywhere he went, apparently.

"What is it?"

"Anyone comes asking, I stayed here for the whole night, eh? Hooked up with that regular, Trisha, and fuck, we had fun."

"Trisha?" The man's voice was slow, confused.

"Yeah, you know her."

Jellal felt Eli's magic swell and imagined the image he was putting in Em's mind.

"Right," Em said. "Trisha." His partner looked equally as dazed.

"And this asshole here?" He grabbed Jellal's forearm and dragged him into his side, then clapped him hard on the shoulder. "He never walked in, right?"

They just looked at him blankly. Eli chortled. "Too easy. Night."

The men said nothing as they walked away; it was like they didn't exist.

Jellal waited until they were exiting the dusty butcher shop to ask, "Do you just fuck with whoever you want?"

"That bother you?" Eli confronted.

"It's their minds."

"Sorry, that's a place near and dear to you, huh?" Eli asked with a snarky, very un-sorry sneer.

Jellal's knuckles tightened without his permission. He didn't hit him, yet, though it was a close thing. Eli knew it, too. He wasn't the least bit concerned. They never were. That was fine; Jellal been underestimated by many rag-tag criminals before. It was always their mistake.

Eli took him through Innisfil's streets. He fell quiet as he walked, his jaw tight.

"Where are we going?" Jellal asked.

"Silver Bridge. No one will bug us there." Eli was short and curt when he wasn't fucking with people. Quiet. Brooding. He walked through Innisfil like he owned it. Maybe in a way he did. Everyone he came across… none of their secrets was safe. He was the man that could know anything; all he had to do was take a peak. _What would that be like,_ Jellal wondered. To know any person's thought at any given time? No secrets, no filters.

"It's fucking shitty," Eli said, intrusive to the last.

"If you hate it so much, stop doing it," Jellal told him.

"I'd be stupid to tune you out. Who knows what you're going to do?"

Jellal bristled. "I do have a conscience. I don't just kill in cold blood."

Eli smirked. His silence was more irksome than his mocking.

Silver Bridge appeared. Jellal asked, "Why come here over somewhere else?"

"Because," Eli said shortly, "Everyone knows that this place is Madam's devil's." The last was dripping with disdain.

"They're too scared to come here?"

"The only ones that would dare are those that belong to the Vault, and they're either busy or dead," Eli said. "I guess in part thanks to you."

Jellal's wince was hidden by the bridge's shadow. He stooped to get beneath the metal skeleton, his feet rolling over the smooth river stone. Madam's rose was still crushed on the ground, evidence of last night's misadventure. Cigarette butts littered the muddy soil. As if the sight triggered the craving, Eli grabbed a pack of smokes from his pocket and jarred one out of its cardboard home. His lighter came to life, illuminating his features and blinding Jellal. Jellal blinked his eyes clear. By the time he was used to the light it was flicking off again.

"So, what does Julian the Snake want to offer me?" Eli asked. Smoke came out of his nose and his mouth with every word.

Jellal said, "He wants to clear your debt with Madam Genève."

"So I can build my debt with him," Eli reasoned.

Jellal didn't deny it; they both knew how Innisfil worked. "He told me to offer you anything you want."

"And what does he get?"

"The trick of that room. He wants to know how, after I used enough magic to decimate the Vault, it still stands."

Eli took another drag off his cigarette. "You want to know how she does the nullifying."

"Yes."

"What else?"

"That's all."

"It never is," Eli said.

Jellal conceded. "Perhaps he's interested in a new ally." Those things sounded so benign when Jellal ordered them such. Both men knew that they came at a heavy cost.

Smoke coiled around Eli's shoulders. "Tell me, how many men does this asshole got working for him?"

"His casino is full of men with guns," Jellal said.

"He's got enough to take down that bitch?"

Jellal asked, "Between us?"

Eli barred his teeth. "I can't make a promise like that. You know as well as I, the only people that can keep a secret in this town are the dead ones."

There was a fearlessness to Eli that Jellal found himself almost enjoying. It wasn't very often people knew his sins in the most intimate of detail as Eli did and still managed to regard him with indifference. "I think yes, he has enough people to take her by force, but he wanted to do it in such a way that made it seem like…"

"Like it was an accident? Like it was natural? Like he wasn't just bowling over people, forcing them to submit while he takes everything for himself?" Eli snorted.

"From what I've seen, he pays his people well and seems to treat them with respect." He went off what Sienna said. Monsters could wear kind faces.

"I don't need respect," Eli said. "I need someone that's willing to get in there and obliterate her."

Jellal opened his arms wide. "It's my only purpose here."

Eli brushed him off. "I've seen how you go about things. You'll never kill her." Jellal opened his mouth to defend himself. Eli rolled on. "Even if you get close, you'll either freeze up because you're too fucking scared or you'll realize you _missed_ being her pet. The next day you'll be getting paid to walk around on the arm of some fucking rich lady that likes you tied up with someone else's dick in your mouth while she fucks you and calls you daddy."

"Never," Jellal said immediately. There was conviction there, but also doubt. _Don't doubt yourself._ The moment that happened was the moment _everything_ fell apart. "With your help, I could have her heart in my hand tonight."

"And here we go. This isn't about helping me or Julian York, it's about helping yourself," Eli said.

Jellal didn't try to deny it. "No one said it wouldn't be beneficial to us both. Tell me what she has that's so important to you. Why is a man with the title of _Iblis_ Madam's trained guard dog?"

Eli's face got dark. "Yeah. I've had enough. Here's what's going to happen, Jellal, you're going to forget about that room—"

Jellal felt Eli digging around in his head. Revulsion skyrocketed. "Stop it. Stop hiding behind magic and fear and let me help you."

Eli shook his head. "You're offering me a bad deal. The last time I was digging around in your head, I saw a man that was pounding back the scotch while he watched some guy's fingers get broken again and again. That's not just a bad deal, that's a rotten deal. It stinks. The only people that'd dance with Julian York are the ones that want to end up dead." He took another drag off his smoke, this one quick, agitated. "Now, you're going to forget about this deal, you're going to forget about tonight, you're going to go back to Gomorrah, pack up your bags and you're going to get the fuck out of town—"

Clenching his teeth wasn't enough to beat back Eli's suggestions. He _wanted_ to do it. His feet were moving, bringing him toward the pathway so he could head back up topside. Gomorrah wasn't far. _Remember Madam Genève. Remember._ Too easy he brought up the image of her standing in the walkway, waiting. It didn't _matter_ if he thought it was a hallucination or not, her presence was strong enough to burn through Eli's suggestion. "Eli—"

"Stubborn asshole. Fine, Jellal, why don't you take a swim in Silver River, huh? Hold your head beneath the water for a few minutes."

Jellal felt Silver River calling his attention. _Stop. Stop._ "It doesn't have to be this way."

"You're wrong. It's never good when a guy like Julian York starts knocking at your door. He says he's going to help me and Celia, but no. If she's not working in Madam's whorehouse she'll be in his. And for what?" Suddenly he was so furious he was spitting with each word. His hands shook. His cigarette was crumpled between his fingers. Jellal's head felt like it was going to burst. "For some fucking asshole that's got a power he never asked for and a mouth that was too fucking big to keep the secret." He laughed manically. "Perfect, right? Come on, Jellal, maybe we'll go together, that way no one's got any reason to keep her."

He came for Jellal, cigarette still in hand, and grabbed him around the shoulders. Jellal's body was slow to respond, still stapled in place by Eli's magic. They stumbled back towards the rushing river water, towards the poisoned flow. _He's trying to kill you_. He was trying to kill himself. As if he weren't brave enough to go on his own.

A log half buried in the bank caught their feet. Together they fell; Jellal felt cold water hit the skin at his shoulder. It was so startling he could only gasp for breath. He was denied that privilege just as soon as he took it, though, the air crushed from his lungs by Eli's weight landing on top of him. The man's concentration slipped. Jellal felt his freedom granted to him once more.

Breathless or not, this wasn't an opportunity he could let slip past. With as much force as he could muster, he reeled back and hit Eli hard in the temple. Eli's head cracked back. His eyes glazed. Jellal thought he'd go down, he was a stubborn bastard, though. He shook off the hit and scrambled into a position that was optimal for beating.

Fingers tightened in Jellal's collar, then he was tasting his own blood, his lip split. With not much else to do, he brought his knee up hard into Eli's back and sent him off balance. On a slope himself and still tethered to the other man, they rolled messily into the knee-deep water. More coldness grabbed at Jellal's clothes, water weighing him down. He shouted and took water into his mouth. The effect was immediate. His vision blurred. Eli also slowed, bogged down by the water's effects. Teetering on his knees, halfway to his feet, his eyes got wide as Silver Dragon's hallucinogen took root in his system. Jellal fought off the toxin as best he could, focusing only on standing, on bringing himself out of the water. His fingers dug into the cobbly bottom and seemed to slip through entirely. He was falling. Falling through the river bottom.

 _Onto_ , he told himself. His precarious position didn't last long, Eli seemed to snap from his trance long enough to grab Jellal's lapel and haul him back toward the rushing water. He wanted the job done right. _Get up._ Jellal's knees locked. He spun around and threw his weight the opposite way while he swung blindly. The effect was messy. Eli caught the punch in the nose; blood burst and decorated his front. He cussed, off-balance enough that when he fell, it was _toward_ the land and not the water. He was relentless, though, getting up to his knees and swinging. Jellal's cheek exploded in bright pain. He shook the hit off and summoned magic. It wouldn't come, eaten up by Silver Dragon's toxin.

 _I'm going to die_. Whether from drowning or overdosing, he couldn't tell. It was a race.

Eli hit him again. The ground bit into his cheek.

Jellal turned so he was looking up at the bottom of the bridge. Eli leaned over him, his face a melting, bloody mess. Jellal wanted to scream. Maybe he did. He was hit again. His vision blackened at the edges, yet he was too stubborn to go quietly. He made a fist and swung. He didn't feel it connect, but there was a glint of steel, a flash of opal, and a dull _clunk_. Eli dropped like a sack of grain. Jellal looked at his hand in disbelief. It was half of a dagger. Then it was just fingers. Then it was rotting, turning black. He started to scream.

"Jellal!"

He saw the scarlet of blood. He was bleeding. Eli was bleeding. The world was bleeding.

Then her fingers landed on his cheeks and Erza came from all the red, Erza that was a girl of red. Erza that was born in scarlet and would die in scarlet. Erza—

She cussed fluently and slapped him hard across the face, trying to bring him back from whatever manic meltdown he'd been toeing. It only did so much. He started to shake, his body rejecting the toxin in the water.

"Jellal!"

 _I'm dying._ This was how it was, huh? Innisfil would have him after all. It wouldn't be Madam that kept him, though, but Silver River, and eventually Scarlet Lake. Beside him, Eli was twitching. Retching.

Something niggled at the back of Jellal's mind. He was stuck on red again.

… _Erza._

Not Erza. His mind skipped, unable to make a straight line of thought. _Julian._ Julian and Silver.

And red.

Red.

The pearl-sized pill rose to the forefront of his mind. _'Might help_ ,' Julian had said.

For a hangover, he said, but any help was better than none.

"Wallet," he managed. "Pill. Cut it."

He didn't know if Erza understood or not, or if it would even work. Darkness took him.

* * *

It took three tries to break the pill with the small knife Erza had hidden in her boot, and when it finally did, one piece skidded into her hand while the other flew over the rocks and got lost beneath the cobbles. _One thing at a time._

Jellal lay on his side, body convulsing. He mumbled nonsense. Kilns and eyes, Suns and secrets. Bets and drinks. Whores and betrayals and forgetting and freedom. It was one senseless thing after the other after the last.

The red pill was small in her hand, smaller still cut in half. She pushed him onto his back and grabbed his chin. His eyes saw nothing in this world, though they were surely seeing _something_. He started crying. Then he started screaming. The thrashing came next. Erza narrowly avoided getting punched. She wondered if she was going to have to subdue him, but he calmed down. She realized that wasn't a great thing as soon as the teeth chattering began. If he was convulsing before, she didn't know what to call this. His breath hiccupped, his face was slate grey.

 _So do something_. Erza pried open his mouth, the task made difficult because he clenched his teeth so hard, and did what she could to shove the half pill inside. She wished she'd crushed it up first. She didn't have that luxury.

Jellal tried to spit it back out. Erza clamped her hand over his mouth, keeping it there until she was sure he swallowed.

Though she wanted to sit there to see if the pill worked, she had to find the other half for the man that she didn't know but that Jellal wanted to save.


	20. Chapter 20

Erza's legs were cramped, muscles spasming and aching. She stayed as she was, half on a smooth river rock, half on the sand, lowered onto her knees with her ankles crossed beneath her butt, mostly because she was afraid to move. Her skin was damp and cold, except where Jellal's body kept her warm, his head cradled in her lap. It had been five minutes since he stopped shaking and gagging. When he'd first fallen into stillness, she thought the pill hadn't worked and he was gone. She was gearing herself up to do something drastic (who _knew_ what) just as he started to breathe again. It wasn't even breaths, his lungs hiccupping along as if they had no idea what to do with air, but it was _something_. Next to them, Eli did nothing at all.

Another five minutes passed. Jellal's muscles started to twitch, not in the erratic way they had been before, but in a way that told her he was starting to come to. His eyes shifted behind his pale lids, then he was blinking, staring up at the bridge. His teeth chattered; he convulsed once, hard. Then he looked at her and recognition flashed behind his eyes. Erza wanted to sag with relief, but he still looked so pale and _wrong_.

"Erza." His voice was hoarse, throat raw from all the screaming.

Erza sniffed and blinked away unwelcomed dampness. "I thought you were dying."

His only response was to ask after the other man.

Erza glanced over in his direction. "When I cut the pill it launched. I couldn't find the other half." Not without light, though she didn't think that was the _heart_ of the issue. She couldn't watch Jellal convulse while she searched, wondering if the next breath was going to be his last without her by his side. "I think he's dead."

Jellal's gaze sharpened. He clenched his fingers to make his muscles stop twitching. Everything was heavy, his head, his body, his breaths. His heart was the most sluggish, beating laboriously. He still found the strength to come out of Erza's grasp. He rolled over almost into a pile of sick. His stomach churned. _Don't. Don't throw up._ The feeling passed. Next he fought a vicious battle with his muscles, trying to make his knees lock so they could take him to Eli. It just wasn't working, so he crawled.

Erza eyed him warily. "You shouldn't be moving."

Jellal ignored her.

She asked, "What was that pill?"

"I don't know." Talking expended a great amount of energy; it helped him feel like he was on the right side of the great divide, though. Stepping into the reaper's halls still felt like it could be effortless. He knew he wasn't in the clear yet.

"You don't know?" Erza repeated.

"Something Julian gave to me the other day." Jellal came to rest at Eli's side. Eli's dark eyes were open, fixed on the bridge. Foam bubbled in the corner of his mouth, white and poisonous looking. Nothing good ever accompanied that foam. _He's overdosing._ Over _dosing_ , or over _dosed_? Jellal couldn't tell if he was alive or not.

"How did you know it would work, then?" Erza asked.

There was also blood leaking down Eli's face. He'd been hit. _By a dagger._ By _Erza's_ dagger, capped in a glittering opal. "I didn't." Jellal lowered his ear to Eli's mouth and waited. He smelled like smoke, but also like bile. Jellal's stomach roiled again. He clamped down on the urge to retch. It wouldn't save him; the toxin was already in his blood. It was up to Julian's drug to help his heart decide to keep beating or not.

He felt a small puff of air.

"Eli's alive. Barely. We need to get him back to Gomorrah and get more of that drug." He leaned away from Eli and dragged his knee to his chest, hoping to stand. It felt like he was trying to teeter on soggy noodles.

Erza's hand clamped down on his wrist. She pulled him to his feet, strong and steady, a rock in a turbulent storm. "I don't know if I can help you both back."

"I'll make it," Jellal told her. He didn't afford himself the luxury of wondering if it were true. "Just take him."

Erza looked down at Eli uncertainly. He didn't _look_ very alive. She wasn't one to waste time asking questions about this kind of thing, though. She released Jellal. He teetered and stumbled. There was an instant where she thought he'd go into the river again, and then what? There was no more magic red pill to make him better. He found his balance through some force of will.

Erza watched Jellal until he took a step in the right direction, toward the road, then focused on Eli. Gathering him up was awkward, every one of his limbs loose and uncooperative. There was a dampness to his shirt that wasn't just river water. She did her best not to think about it, even if the smell was in her nose. Halfway up, she used most of her strength to pop him into the air so she could get further beneath him. He settled like a ton of bricks over her back, heavy as hell, bogged down as he was by muscle. He was still lighter than Adisa had been. Adisa, whose thick blood was still on her fingers. _Don't think about it._

Out of sorts, she didn't consider changing into an armour that would help with her burden, she just bore the weight. Eli's feet remained dragging on the ground. He was too tall for her. He wasn't in any condition to complain.

* * *

The sound of Erza's symphonising puffs encouraged Jellal to keep moving. He wasn't fooled, Julian's little red pill had bought him some time, but everything was falling apart at the seams once more. Shadows that looked suspiciously like Ultear's rendition of Zeref chased him through the streets. Sometimes they'd get daring and dart in at his feet. He'd stumble, actually _feeling_ them collide, the hallucination was so real. It didn't _matter_ that he knew it was Silver Dragon toxin doing him in, it made his heart beat faster. Erza caught him when she could; when she couldn't, it was the solid walls of buildings that held him up, or other people wandering down the streets that pushed him back to his feet. Most avoided making eye contact, assuming, aptly at that, that they were stoned out of their minds. They scuttled away, afraid they'd be robbed or worse. Some, however, watched with a more calculated eye, gathering information for some curious mind. Jellal waited for trouble; none came.

When Ultear's memory stepped aside, Madam Genève took her place, golden and gleaming, a line of men and women behind her, some wanting love, some wanting to bleed. More still wanting to make _him_ bleed. Madam's mauve lips would form around his name. ' _Jellal. Mon_ _préféré_ _._ _Mon beau garçon._ _Do you truly want to come home?'_

He never answered, afraid of what he'd say if he opened his mouth.

Gomorrah appeared, face bright and splendid. In the light, Madam Genève and her entourage disappeared, making way for the people lingering around the front entrance, smoking and drinking on a huge patio, or coming and going from the casino's belly. Jellal thought that was the end of it until a man turned, wearing Simon's bleeding face. He faltered and would have fallen to his knees, but Erza, bless her, caught his bicep and held him. Already strained with Eli on her back, she grunted with the effort.

"Don't fall. I can't pick you up again."

"Simon—"

Erza tensed. "There is no Simon, Jellal."

Her voice was steadying, _real_. Jellal swallowed and tried to look at Gomorrah with eyes that saw into reality. But Simon was still there. And others, too. Ingin. Andre. Adisa. Eris. And people that hadn't yet died but were standing in a line that could very well lead to that end. All of Crime Sorcière. Erza. The Erza that stood to his left bled like the one had at the Hive, her beautiful eyes stained red, her mouth wet, the colour a sharp contrast to the black dress she wore.

" _Jellal_ ," the _real_ Erza hissed. "Keep moving. We're almost there, just hang on." Her fingers were as tight as a vice around his arm. The pain brought him back just enough that he could look away from the fake. Gomorrah's wide double doors darted open silently, depositing them inside the front entrance. Distantly, Jellal knew that they weren't supposed to go in that way, that was obvious with all the eyes turning their way, the gasps of shocked guests ringing out when they saw their state, but it was too much effort to go around back, to be secret like Julian requested.

They didn't get a chance to attract attention for long, anyway. Huge men wearing suits and sour expressions materialized from the crowd and came to them. "You're not supposed to be entering this way."

Erza wasn't intimidated by their sour looks. "We need to see Julian."

The men mostly ignored her, two breaking off and going to Jellal. They snatched him up from beneath the arms and held him aloft. He sagged and went limp, as if he had just then totally run out of energy. He started muttering again, worse than before. The last man came to Erza and took Eli from her, lifting him into the air and slinging him across his back with only a grunt of effort. They started walking. Erza tasted fear.

"Wait."

They didn't. She rushed to catch up. "Where are you taking them?"

They were silent as stones. Erza used long steps to keep up with the taller men. Her eyes kept tracking to Jellal, slung as limp as a ragdoll between his captors. Her heart was thundering; she kept imagining that his lungs stopped trying to draw air, or that his heart stopped clenching and unclenching, moving his blood around. She couldn't tell if it was true from her position behind the men. She rushed to stay even with them.

"Is he breathing?"

The slots whirled past them. And the roulette table. A bar. No one answered her. Jellal's head swung like a pendulum between his shoulders, limp. _Like he's dead._

"Jellal?" Erza reached in front of one of the men, trying to find Jellal's forehead. His skin was sickly yellow again, and clammy beneath her fingers. "Jellal? Can you hear me?" No response. He was as still as Eli. Suddenly panicked, Erza determined, "He's not breathing. He's—"

"Out of the way." The man pushed her aside. Operating on autopilot, Erza clenched her fist, ready to swing. The men disappeared into a room and her opportunity was missed. The man carrying Eli shoved past her as well, uncaring that his shoulder jarred her into the bright white wall at her back. Erza pushed off the surface and scrambled after them, throwing the door open violently.

The room beyond was seeded with white leather couches, a glass coffee table topped with a vase that held black peonies. The men ignored the couches and instead dropped Eli and Jellal to the marbled floor. One of them spoke into a lacrima in his palm. His words slid over Erza. She went to Jellal's side and fell to her knees, feeling wrung out and exhausted herself, but still strung on fear. So close, she realized he still breathed, though it was the shallowest breaths she'd ever seen, barely taken in at all. Foam gathered at the corner of his mouth like it did in Eli's; his eyes were open, unseeing. Erza cupped his face, trying to make him focus.

"Jellal—"

Hands closed on her shoulders. "What happened?"

She recognized Julian's voice, but she had no idea where he'd come from. "He needs help. I found him fighting with this man by the river." She pointed vaguely at Eli. "And then he started talking nonsense and throwing up. He's been poisoned. There was a pill he took and that helped, but he's sick again and I have no more pills."

"He was poisoned by Silver River," Julian affirmed. "Move back, Erza." He started tugging her away.

"No, I have to—"

"There isn't anything you can do," he told her firmly. "Step back and let my healer work on him."

 _Healer?_ Erza took her eyes away from Jellal long enough to find a skinny man tottering through a door at the back of the room. He looked like he was two steps away from collapsing himself. "This man? He can hardly stand—"

"He does good work," Julian promised. "Step back now." He pulled her hand.

Erza was still sedentary, legs like two concrete pillars pegging her to the floor. "You'll heal him?"

"We'll do our best," Julian said.

 _Our best._ She couldn't lose him, not when she'd just _found_ him. Not when he was only now hers in the way she'd always wanted. "Do better than your best." The threat was hardly as rigid as she hoped, coming out with a shaking voice and all. _You're scared._ More scared than she'd been in a long, long time.

"Yes, Erza, of course. Now step _back_."

She did, though it wasn't quite willingly, Julian pulling her hard. She stumbled and caught herself before going down. The healer fumbled his way to the small space between Jellal and Eli and practically collapsed to his knees.

Erza choked on frustration. "He's incompetent, useless—"

" _Erza_ ," Julian said, voice cracking like a whip. "I assure you, Wilber is the best healer my considerable funds can buy. If you _cannot shut up and back up,_ I _will_ have you removed."

"I'm not leaving him," Erza said, unperturbed.

"All I'm asking is for you to sit."

Something hard hit the backs of her knees. A couch, she realized when Julian tugged her down. It was both soft and cold. She shivered and wrung her hands together. Helplessness wasn't a shroud she wore with dignity. She gnawed the inside of her cheek until it was raw, watching Wilber of the matted and messy hair, unkempt and soiled clothes work on Jellal. She didn't trust his life in this man's hands. _But you're not a healer_. She chewed her cheek harder.

Julian said, "We'll wait together." His hand landed between her shoulders and rubbed in gentle, soothing circles. Erza twitched out of his grasp the first time, but not when he came back, she was too focused on Wilber removing a package of red pills from the tatty coat he wore. He dropped one in Eli's mouth and one in Jellal's, then laid a hand on either man. His magic swelled through the room, potent like Wendy's, but not nearly as pure. It didn't matter, the effect was still visible. Jellal's skin immediately lost the yellow tinge that said his liver was failing.

Julian said, "Get Jellal to a place where he's stable, then focus your attention on Eli, Wilber. We need him alive."

"Yes, Mr. York," the healer mumbled.

Erza bristled. "You said—"

"That we'd heal him, yes, and we will," Julian agreed. "But he's in much better condition than Eli here."

Erza attempted to stand. What she'd accomplish, she didn't know. Maybe she'd go to Wilber's side and beat him until he poured all of his magic into Jellal, maybe she'd just get in the way and nothing would happen the way she wanted. Julian tugged her down again.

"I won't let him die, Erza. If he can be saved, he'll be saved. Now sit and stay out of Wilber's way."

Julian sounded so reasonable. Erza looked back to Jellal. Before her eyes his skin again took on a healthier hue. The fight went out of the redhead. She collapsed into the couch, crushing Julian's hand behind her back. She didn't bother moving.

Hours passed where Erza watched Wilber work. First it was in silence, then Julian started prodding her for details. She told him of walking over Silver Bridge, intent of going to the Vault, and hearing the struggle below. She told him of coming down the incline to see Jellal and Eli stumbling through the water, one screaming to get out, the other screaming to stay and die. She told him how she'd hit Eli with the hilt of her dagger, thinking that would be the end of it, but both men were not themselves. The memories came in short bursts that were tainted with adrenaline-fueled forgetfulness. When she was through, Julian had a mostly-accurate account of the night's happenings. Wilber had stopped working on Jellal and started working on Eli. Jellal's chest rose and fell with steady breaths, his skin was pink.

"I think he's going to live," the healer said. "We'll leave him here for awhile longer while I work on this one, though, just to be sure."

Julian sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Do a good job, Wilber, I'd very much like to have a conversation both with Jellal and Madam's devil."

With the immediate threat to his life diminished, Erza's adrenaline started to peter out of her system. She found she was utterly exhausted. At some point she'd leaned away from Julian and rested her head on the couch's armrest, just to stretch out. Her eyes drooped closed, barring Jellal from her view, and she fell into a fitful asleep.

* * *

Jellal's eyes were heavy, mountainously so, yet they couldn't stay the way they were. With great effort, they rolled open. He looked up at a ceiling he didn't fully recognize. It was white with wrought iron stenciling welded to it in the shape of a thorny bush. His first thought was that he was back at the Vault with Madam Genève and her roses, but that was wrong. It wasn't dark enough, nor did it smell enough like sex and drugs and perfume.

Julian appeared, expensive leather shoes coming to rest beside Jellal's head, close enough that Jellal could smell the wax used to make them shine.

"Welcome back to the land of the living." Julian's smile was wolfish.

"Eli." Jellal's tongue felt thick and useless.

"We moved him out an hour ago. He's alive," Julian said. "Barely. Wilber's going to be working on him for most of the day. Good work bringing him back here."

Jellal's head felt fuzzy. "The pill you gave me…"

Julian's dark brow went up. "Good thing you held onto it, huh? Lucky break, I suppose."

Jellal didn't feel like he had enough brain function to properly tell Julian his philosophies on luck. It'd never done him any service before, why would it suddenly start? "Erza?"

Julian stepped aside, revealing Erza's form curled on the couch. Her shirt was torn and her hair was a matted mess. She was still the best thing he'd ever seen. He tried to rise so he could go to her. His body hardly belonged to him.

"Leave her for now," Julian said. "I'll have her brought back to her room. Get up and shower, you smell like puke and I don't want you walking through Gomorrah like that. Not again." It was spoken matter-of-factly, but he was furious; Jellal didn't need to know Julian all that well to see that. It was in the way his eyes flashed, in that flat tenor with which he spoke.

"She can wait for me, then."

Julian asked, "Will you make her stay here asleep on the couch while you clean up? Don't be stupid. I'll take care of her. My personal quarters are off this room. Sienna's in there. Get her to grab you some clothes, eh? When you're done, come up to your room where you can rest. We'll talk when you've slept, then we'll deal with Eli together if he's awake to answer some questions."

He sounded so reasonable. Almost kind. Jellal knew he wasn't a kind man, though, not unless he wanted something. It seemed like the longer he thought about having Eli work for him, the better it sounded. "Just so you know, my offer wasn't as well received as I'd hoped."

Julian laughed. "No? I thought the fucker pulled you into the river just for some fun. Don't worry, we'll make him see things our way. It's a bit of a specialty of mine, as well. Come on, you've been here all day and I got things to do."

Jellal looked to Erza once more, not entirely comfortable leaving her with Julian.

"Don't insult her, Jellal, she's fine," Julian maintained, seeing clearly through his hesitance.

 _More fine than you_ , Jellal told himself. Without her, he'd be half-in and half-out of Silver River, choked on his own bile while Madam Genève chased him down the very long and very dark corridor of his mind. "Right." Getting his feet beneath him was an achievement, one that was accomplished with a lot of crawling and stumbling and leaning on furniture.

"Just through that door. Sienna will show you right." Julian pointed to a door opposite the couch. "And don't touch anything in there, eh? I'll know it if you do."

"Yeah," Jellal agreed, not feeling up to snooping even if he had reason. The room warped and warbled. He thought the floor was going to come up and meet him again; he managed to stay upright by some grace, and even managed to get into the opposite room. He stole one last look at Erza curled on the couch before the door closed and blocked her out. _You'll see her soon_. When he was feeling more himself, less like chucking his guts up at her feet.

Julian's room was larger than his on the fourteenth floor. The bed, made with a white comforter and peppered with black pillows, faced a huge window that overlooked Scarlet Lake. Above the mattress and pinned on the walls were mirrors. Nightstands adorned with a hookah, pipes, cigarettes and other paraphernalia took up the space beside the headboard. By the window was a huge hot tub that wasn't as empty as Jellal thought it should be. He saw Natalie first, chestnut hair damp and slicked back. Even with her back to him, it didn't take long to see that there wasn't a scrap of clothing on her body. She was involved in what she was doing, Sienna equally naked and spread wide before her, butt resting on the ledge of the hot tub. The redhead's skin glistened, as wet as Natalie's. Her moan was low and hot when Natalie's tongue darted out and flicked over her clitoris. Her eyes cracked open, fixed on Jellal. Her expression got caught somewhere between surprise and pleasure.

"Jellal."

He tried to remain unaffected. "Sienna."

Natalie came away from her and seized Jellal's eye. "It's good to see you alive."

"It's good to be alive," he admitted. He kept his eyes on hers when he felt them roving downwards. Julian hired only the best and kept the most beautiful for himself, that much was obvious. Again he lamented leaving Erza with him, but he was right, she could handle herself, and anyone else that needed handling as well. "Julian told me to shower before heading back to my room. He said to ask for clothes."

"I'll get it, love." Natalie kissed Sienna hard then stood straight. Her body was full like Sienna's, without flaw except for a bite mark above her right breast. "Shower is there." She pointed to a black door recessed into a white wall. "The towels on the racks are clean. Go ahead and get started; I'll get you something to wear." She didn't bother grabbing a towel or drying her feet when she came out of the tub. Wet foot marks left a trail in her wake.

"Are you okay, Jellal?" Sienna asked.

He looked away from Natalie and found her. Her hands were between her legs, keeping up in Natalie's absence. She looked like she was enjoying it, but there was a note of seriousness on her face as well.

"I'm fine."

"I suppose it's too late to tell you to leave the Vault alone. She's going to be mad you took Eli. After Adisa, too."

"I'm counting on it." Jellal left her there for the shower, needing to wash himself clean. All he could think about was Silver Dragon. Silver, really. Every bit of his skin itched, and it wasn't just the comedown, but the _need_. His conversation with Natalie haunted him. _'You're addicted to Silver, aren't you?' 'No, but I want to be.'_

It really was the perfect trap.

* * *

The shower was hot enough to make his skin raw, and yet it still wasn't enough. Jellal stood under the spray in a ridiculously large bathroom in a ridiculously large tub, and enjoyed the water coming from the ceiling.

He didn't know he wasn't alone until the glass door peeled back and Natalie stepped right in and closed it again. Jellal schooled his features into blandness and studied her face, even when she moved close to him.

"I think Sienna was waiting for you."

"She is," Natalie agreed. "And I do hate to keep her that way." She looked at him appreciatively, eyes starting at his jaw and rolling down. Jellal didn't cover himself, nor did he get shy, thinking that's what she wanted.

"Then what are you doing in here?"

"Maybe I just wanted to see how you are." She touched his chest. Her hand was colder than ice.

Jellal grabbed her wrist. "That's a lie." After his rough night, he felt only half equipped to have a conversation like this with a girl like Natalie. "You want something."

"That hurts," she said.

"Getting high and getting some… it's the only pain you know."

Her smile fell away, replaced by a patented sulk. It had worked on many men, he was sure. "Julian asked me to make sure that you were well taken care of."

He raised a brow. "Is that so? Because Julian told me not to touch anything in here, and I have a sneaking suspicion that extended to you, too."

Her grin was lightning fast, sunlight bright. She grabbed him and squeezed. "I'm sure it didn't."

He felt himself getting hard. He pushed her back and released her. "Thanks, but no thanks."

"Erza is waiting for you?" She smirked wide and leaned away.

Jellal's stomach got heavy when he thought about Erza. "Just leave, Natalie."

"I will," she said, then dropped the act. "But first, maybe you can answer some things for me, Jellal."

He looked at her warily. "What?"

"That man Julian has tied up in his office while Wilber heals him. Who is he?"

Jellal couldn't see the harm in answering that. "Eli Tase."

"He's one of Madam's." There was a shine to her eye, wonder or hate, maybe both twisted together.

"Yes."

"He's one of the ones that keeps girls like Sienna where they're supposed to be."

"Most of the girls like Sienna stay with Madam Genève because they have nowhere else to go," Jellal said.

Natalie's eyes flashed dangerously. "Why are you defending him? He's obviously despicable, working for a despicable woman."

"I don't think he's there by choice," Jellal told her.

Natalie's sulk turned into a glower. "Julian says he's powerful, that he can read minds and make people do all kinds of things they don't want. Men like that don't work for Madam Genève because they have to. The world bows to them. He set a price and now she's hemorrhaging money to keep him around."

 _'I think you'll find I'm just a bastard that likes to be paid.'_ But no, not Eli. There was a little more than just money and drugs and the privilege that came from being at Madam's side as one of her enforcers.

Natalie tried to sound off-handed. "If he were dead, she'd be crippled."

Jellal shook his head. "He's much more valuable alive."

"You don't believe that. You know he should pay for what he's done. If I gave you a knife, Jellal, wouldn't you want to see justice?"

He searched her eyes then relaxed. "You want me to kill him because you're afraid to do it yourself? Nicely played, but no."

Natalie flinched. Talking like this made her twitchy. She didn't like it, and yet she kept going. "I thought you wanted bad people to suffer? I thought that's why you killed Adisa."

 _I killed him because I wanted to._

 _And for justice._ The last was tagged on, an afterthought awash in bloodlust. _It's true. It's true. For justice._ He cleared his throat, forcing away the insanity. "I'm sure Julian doesn't want to know his girl on the side is trying to conspire to kill the man he's so eager to speak with. Leave it, Natalie. It's a dangerous route you take."

"Julian would never hurt me."

"I don't think you understand how ambitious he is," Jellal said. He thought there wasn't much Julian _wouldn't_ do to stay on top. "Quit while you're ahead."

Natalie looked off balance and out of sorts. Then she got irate, unused to being turned down. Jellal expected her to yell or demand that he do her bidding. She only said, "I left your clothes on the countertop. You can leave your old ones on the floor. The cleaners will get them."

"Thank you." She started to leave. "Natalie," Jellal called her back.

She met his eye over her shoulder. Her hair clung to her skin, messy and wet. She'd dragged her fingers through it several times since searching for clothes for him. "You should stay away from him."

Natalie's smile was genuine. "Are you worried for that man, Jellal? You didn't strike me as the kind that cared. Is it because you see yourself in him?"

"I can't afford to let him loose." Not after almost dying to get him here.

"Don't worry. Not only is he under guard, Julian would never let me alone with him."

"Somehow you strike me as the type of woman who would take that as a challenge."

Her teeth were bright and white and straight. "Me?"

Jellal warned, "He's not like other men. He tried to kill himself tonight; he feels that's his only option, which means he's dangerous. He's apt to try anything. He knows from digging through my head how close you and Julian are. He may try to hurt you to force Julian's hand."

Natalie's look turned considering. "Sometimes all anyone wants to taste is danger."

"Natalie—"

"It's okay, Jellal. You said yourself, I'm not much of a killer. Stop worrying about that when there is a beautiful girl waiting for you in your room. You should see to her."

He didn't _want_ to speak with Erza. There was no way she wasn't _furious_ , and she was only going to become even more enraged when he told her of his night. _You could not._ He knew he could never lie, though, not about that. _Is it lying_? It was keeping a secret. They were almost one in the same.

"There is no guillotine coming down on your head, stop looking so dour," Natalie said.

"You didn't have the night I did," Jellal replied. "And you don't know the Erza that I do."

"See?" Natalie teased. "Danger is addicting." She twirled her fingers then and left before Jellal could get in another word. He couldn't deny her.

* * *

Jellal didn't know why he expected anything less than the black dress shirt and grey slacks Natalie left. He just thanked his stars that she didn't leave him with a tie, too. He didn't have the patience for that right now. He yanked his pants on, then threw the shirt over his body, doing up all but the topmost buttons. He left the shirt untucked; this was as far as he was willing to go.

Coming out of the shower, he anticipated seeing Sienna and Natalie back in the hot tub, yet it was empty. There was an instant where he thought Natalie disregarded his warning and went to find Eli anyway, but a dark moan brought his eyes to the double king sized bed.

The last glimpse he took of them, Natalie lay on her back, Sienna perched overtop of her, both using their tongues to make the other sob. He left them with Natalie's offer only dully ringing in his head. Maybe after Erza told him to fuck his hand, he'd come back and forget his inhibitions. Maybe he'd let blood and sex rule and he'd stop fighting himself so damn hard. Maybe he'd take Julian up on his offer and have some of his Silver, that way the gross hollow pit in his chest would be filled. For an hour.

 _And then you'd have to come back again and again. There would be no end. You'd be a slave to something else._

The thought of servitude shocked him more than pride or shame ever could.

He hurried from the room, running not from Sienna and Natalie, but from demons.

* * *

 **A/N** : I never get to tell my guest reviewers how much I really appreciate their support via reviews, so **THANK YOU**! I don't know who you are, but you're always taking a second to leave me a comment, and it's super awesome because sometimes I'm just like, 'eh, this is shit, why am I bothering?' but you getting excited for it makes me excited, so, yes. Thank you. You're all awesome, wonderful readers who put up with my weirdness and mis-characterizations and the darkest parts of my mind. Merci, Mesdames et Messieurs.

See you next chapter!


	21. Chapter 21

Erza sat in a huge tub full of scalding hot water, Julian York's words tearing through her head. ' _Jellal is fine, just showering before he comes through Gomorrah.'_ She wanted to sit there on that cursed couch and wait for him to finish, but Julian was _insistent._ He had some place to be and he didn't want guests anymore. So she let him help her stand and guide her through Gomorrah like a proper lady, not because she _felt_ proper, or because she wanted him so close, but because she was just too tired to fight anymore.

 _'And Eli_?" she had asked along the way.

 _'Fine, too_ ,' had been Julian's response. Perhaps Wilber Red _was_ worth his weight in gold, but Erza would save her agreements for _after_ she saw Jellal in one piece.

She'd been there for forty minutes now, waiting for just that, and she was getting impatient.

She was just pulling the drain on the bathtub when she heard the outer door open. Her heart went into her throat, anxious for a slew of reasons. The rose scented water turned clockwise down the drain. Erza picked herself out of the tub and dried using a plush black towel. Once finished, she wrapped in a long silver housecoat and came into the main room.

Jellal looked up from where he yanked on the buttons of his shirt and met her eyes. Erza stilled her crashing heart— _he's alive—_ and stopped her itching feet. _There's no reason to run to him._

"You're a fool."

Jellal winced. "Erza…"

"You stood me up."

He sighed. "With good reason."

"Was it?" she prodded.

"Yes—"

Erza wasn't so interested in his excuses. "Did you meet with Adisa and Julian like you talked about?"

Jellal knew her question was loaded, the pathway to answer dotted with killing mines. "Yes."

"You killed Adisa."

It was a statement; Jellal answered anyway. "Yes." Best be truthful.

Erza pressed her fingers to her mouth and shook her head. All she could see when she looked at him was the Jellal that sat upon his throne in the Tower of Heaven, heartless and cold. _It's not true. He's gone now._ Desperate to convince herself, she asked, "Why?"

"He was a criminal," Jellal said. There was no guilt in his words. He felt blameless. At least for the time being.

"You are not _God_ ," Erza hissed. "You don't _get_ to make those decisions!"

His eyes flashed, a monster welling beneath the surface of a very calm pool. "If I don't punish these people, who will?"

"The police," Erza said immediately.

Jellal's voice was too loud when he said, "People like Adisa don't stay in prison. They get free, then they get even."

Haya's words came back to Erza; she knew the truth. Adisa _would_ have gotten out, his freedom bought by Madam Genève, or given by the police that were in the woman's back pocket.

Jellal said, "You've taken lives, Erza."

"When it was a necessity," she agreed. "And _only_ then."

"This _was_ necessary. Madam Genève's blight has to be cut away. That means everyone working for her, too. It's an infection that has to be eradicated _completely_." _Even Haya who only wanted pomegranate for the risk she took in helping you?_ Jellal suffocated that voice. It was useless.

Erza unexpectedly softened. "You really hate her, don't you?"

Jellal stalled, in the process of tugging his shirt over his shoulders. "Of course I do. She's the worst kind of evil."

"Tell me about her."

Jellal's heart beat hard. "There isn't anything to say other than that."

"Don't lie, Jellal. I know. Tonight I met the man that tried to sell me. He worked at the Vault for Madam Genève. He was a whore. He wore the same tattoo as you, along with that woman from the other night, the one that sent me away. It's the mark of the Vault, isn't it? It belongs to her, to Genève. You were one of them."

Jellal felt like the air had been knocked from his lungs. Trying to give himself some time to process the reveal of his deepest, darkest secret, he attempted to skirt past her and head into the washroom. Erza caught his arm and held it tight.

"Release me."

"No, Jellal. No more tricks, no more evasions. Just the truth. You were one of those people once, weren't you?" She felt ill asking it, especially when she looked at his tight expression. This was a conversation he very much didn't want to have.

"Let go."

"That's why you're so hell-bent on revenge, isn't it?"

"You don't know what you're saying."

Erza found patience. "How did you come to be in her services?"

"Erza—"

She felt like a bully for pushing him. "Tell me I'm wrong, then."

His silence said it all. His face was red, shamed.

Erza touched his cheek. "Please, Jellal. I only want to help."

He wrenched from her clutch. "There is nothing to say."

Erza grabbed him again. "Jellal—"

Feeling erratic, Jellal met Erza's eyes squarely. "What do you want, Erza? Before the Tower of Heaven there was the town of Innisfil, and the Vault. There was a boy whose smile Madam always cherished. She'd touch his face, comb his hair and tell him he was _magnifique._ She'd teach him everything she knew every day, again and again, then sell him out to the highest bidder at night, and because he was so _fucking weak,_ he'd take it. Part of him even _liked_ it." He paused abruptly, panting as if he'd run a race. "She owned me, Erza. My saviors? The slavers from the Tower of Heaven." He scoffed depreciatively. "There is no freedom in this world." He jerked out of her grasp and stalked away. Erza jolted when the door to the bathroom slammed closed.

* * *

Jellal rested his elbows on the wide marble sink and stared into the dark drain. He felt sick all over again with the hollow pit in his chest, the erratic beating of his heart, the _need_ he felt rushing through his veins. Natalie's blank expression came back to him, terrifying, as she stared out over Scarlet Lake last night. _Last night?_ But yes, the sun had crested the horizon long ago.

Withdrawal wasn't the _only_ reason he felt ill, though, or even the _main_ reason. The pity. The pity made him sick. Erza's concern. Her knowledge. _She was never supposed to know._ He didn't like feeling weak. Never, ever had he liked feeling weak. Weakness got him into the Vault, weakness kept him in the Tower of Heaven when he could have escaped and had the life that maybe he wasn't _meant_ to have, but that he could eek out. He'd have Erza, and everything that came afterwards was irrelevant. But weakness made him strive for strength. Weakness brought him to Zeref, and the need for power kept him there, even when everything was saying that it was a trick. A crafty one, yes, but a trick. After all, what being with such power would ever need the help of such a frail mortal? Ignorance was a type of bliss, though.

The Tower of Heaven, the power and purpose it offered, it was everything he'd ever wanted. Until it all fell through and he was left on the brink of death, about to be a slave to yet another contender. Staring down that drain, he wondered what it was that people saw when they looked at him. What was it that made them want to keep him for their own? Maybe Madam left her mark on him long ago and people from everywhere saw it and _knew._ This boy. This boy cannot ever be his own, that mark said. This boy needs to belong to _someone_ because he cannot belong to himself.

"You know that's exactly right."

Jellal knew before he looked up that his reflection was back and feeling chatty again. He was scared to lift his gaze, so he kept looking into that dark cylinder at the bottom of the sink.

"Maybe this is all we can ever be."

"I don't want to accept that," Jellal whispered, as if speaking quietly would somehow make him _less_ insane.

"Whether or not you accept it… that's irrelevant. Do you know _how_ I know you don't really want things to change?"

 _No._

Nothing would stop his reflection from being heard. "If you _truly_ wanted her to die, she would have been dead already."

"She's had people protecting her."

"A brute of a man felled by Erza's hand. A devil—an _Iblis_ —who is just as insane as us, and, if I'm not mistaken, totally out of the picture. And a woman that can be bought with fruits. Such a terrifying entourage." Mirror Jellal laughed, it was a sick, hiccupping sound. "If you could not manage to get the demon out of your bones, that perfect killer, you could have offered that priest the right price. He would have had her gutted by morning."

In the Basement, anything could be bought for the right price. "Mr. Fental… he asks too much."

"Is that what you're telling yourself? Before it was ' _no price is too high,'_ and now you're paying too much? Excuses. They're all excuses. You don't want to kill her because part of you still wants to be needed by her. Pathetic."

Jellal pressed his hands into his temples. _Stop. Stop._

The words kept on coming, though they fell on deaf ears. Standing abruptly straight, Jellal tore open the door and spilled out into the main room.

Erza, despite Jellal's surety that she'd be long gone after learning the truth about him, stood much in the same position as he'd left her in. Maybe she was too shocked and disgusted to move.

She blew that theory out of the water when she stepped toward him. "Jellal, are you alright?"

The insanity stayed in the washroom. Jellal found his tongue. "You can leave, Erza."

She stood straighter, silver robe tugging taut around her curves, mouth, like cherries, dropping into a concerned pout. "I don't want to."

His face got hot all over again, there was no helping it. "Maybe _I_ want you to."

Erza moved across the room, gathering him in a tight hug. Her cheek rested against his shoulder like it belonged there. "You don't mean that."

He was stiff beneath her, body feeling like it was made of marble. "Erza, please—"

She leaned back to see him clearly. "If you're worried about how I see you, I've seen you at your worst, Jellal, and at your best. This doesn't change my opinion of you. I still know who you are."

"It should."

Her eyes hardened some. "Should I hate you because long ago you were abused?"

"No, but because nothing has changed. I'm still the same person I ever was. Still as weak as I ever was."

She blinked. "Weak?"

"I should have fought her long ago."

"You were a child, there was no escaping that."

He met her eyes squarely. "My mentor took Silver Dragon to know freedom. Sienna, she wiped away her mark just as soon as she was able and found another place to work. I went to the Tower of Heaven and held my wrists together for more shackles."

Erza searched his eyes. "What are you saying?"

Jellal erupted. "What if I can never be free? What if I never _want_ to be free, Erza? I should have killed Madam Genève by now. I should have finished this job. I've taken on harder foes than a woman that sits in furs and silks and dresses herself in perfumes. I've been stupid and careless, making mistakes that I _never_ should have made, all because I can't keep my head clear. I keep wondering if there is nothing but to belong to her. Then I wonder if it would be so bad."

Erza released her hold on his shoulders so she could cup his cheeks between her palms. "You shouldn't belong to anyone you don't want to."

He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, unable to look at her any longer. "I've never felt more at someone's mercy."

"We all have weaknesses, but it's the people that have ones that they love to hold them up that overcome them. Let me help you, Jellal."

"I don't want you involved."

His breath was hot buffeting Erza's face. She let her fingers slide into his hair, thankful that he was alive, even if he was being a stubborn fool. "Because you're ashamed? You tell me of when you take lives, sleep with other women, but this, something that's been done unto you, something outside of your control, that's what tips the scales? Nothing you've shown me so far has made me run from you. This is no different." That alone terrified her. How much could she love him? Where would she draw the line and say that enough is enough? That he was damaged and out of control and out of reach? _I would never._ That kind of devotion… she didn't think she could feel it, but for Jellal… she felt blind.

"Erza…"

His eyes were open and on hers. Erza stood on tiptoe and made their mouths meet. He'd brushed his teeth sometime after Silver River. He tasted like mint, though there was a hint of acridness still, a strange bitter taste that she could only imagine was Silver Dragon.

His mouth was still until she pulled away. "I paid a woman tonight." Erza didn't need him to clarify, yet he did. "One of Madam Genève's."

Her heart was heavy, though she _knew—_ or at least _thought_ —from the very beginning that there were others. "You paid a woman to be with you after you ditched me in a restaurant?"

Jellal bit his cheek hard. There was no way to make it sound nicer. "Yes."

She stepped back, getting some space between them. "Why?"

"Does it matter?"

Did it? Erza wasn't sure. "Were our encounters unsatisfying?" She was glad when her voice came out even and true, proud still even though her ego was taking a demolishing hit.

Jellal looked genuinely horrified. "No. Never." Even when he was in the clutches of some lunatic meltdown, she was the best thing he'd ever had.

Erza shoved her hands through her wet hair, feeling out of sorts. "I told you before you didn't have to look elsewhere."

"It wasn't about want or lack of satisfaction, Erza. I needed information." He looked away from her. "This was the only way I knew to get it."

Erza took in a deep breath, pushing her lungs to the limit. She wanted to ask, ' _do you promise,'_ but couldn't. She wouldn't be insecure. _Would not._ "Did you find what you needed?"

"Yes. She pointed me in the direction of Eli."

"Then it wasn't for nothing."

He scrubbed his face. "I suppose, if you want to look at it that way, no, it wasn't for nothing."

"Did you think of me?"

Jellal wasn't sure which answer was the best. "You're the only one I ever think about." It didn't matter the circumstance. She was always there.

When he took his hands away from his eyes, Erza had taken another step away from him. She was taller now, on the stair leading to the second level where the balcony was. Her hands were on the bow holding her robe together. With her eyes locked on his, she started tugging on the silken fabric.

"What are you doing?" Jellal asked.

"Undressing."

Yes. He saw that. "Why?"

The bow came loose. She grabbed the lapel of her robe and pulled it wider, exposing her body one freckle at a time. She was beautiful, her skin ivory and kissed by the sun. "I don't like knowing that another woman had you last," Erza said boldly.

Blood roared in Jellal's ears. "Erza… You shouldn't—"

"Why?" She tried to sound glib; Jellal saw the worry in her eye, as if she expected him to turn her away. He wouldn't. Not Erza. Without a word from him, the robe came wide, falling from her shoulders more like feathers than material. It drifted to the ground and she was completely bare. For all of Haya's beauty and grace and experience, she was a pale substitute for Erza. They all were.

She pushed her scarlet hair back from her face and held out her hand in invitation. Jellal was reaching for her before he knew what he was doing, stepping into her and finding the hollow of her waist. Her ribs were still bruised, a purple and blue flower of unique beauty; he paid no mind to it. He still wore his own wound from Adisa, the side of his face only now, days later, something other than purple.

Stepping in so they were body-to-body, he let his hands slide around to her spine. Her skin was raised in goosebumps, not quite as smooth as it normally would have been. He looked up into her dark eyes, searching for something not even he could name. Erza's fingers went into his hair. She brought his mouth to her throat and held it there. Jellal kissed her like she wanted. Her eyes closed, her face tipped to the ceiling.

"Tell me you love me."

Other men would freeze or stammer. "I've only ever loved you," Jellal said without hesitation.

"Even though I'm like everyone else?"

He licked up her throat to her jaw. "You're like no one I've known, ever."

"You're wrong," Erza said. "I want you to be mine like your no one else's. I want you to belong to me."

He lifted his hands and hefted her heavy breasts, using them to bring her flush with his chest while he sorted through the myriad of emotions running rampant through his mind. His mouth still worked on her body, sucking where he could, biting hard enough to make her wince, then shiver.

"I know its not what you want, but," Erza continued, enjoying the feeling of his mouth tickling her skin. "If you're mine, then you cannot be Madam Genève's. Remember that."

"It is what I want," Jellal said finally.

Erza leaned away and brushed his hair back from his forehead. "Maybe there truly isn't any freedom in this world."

Not this world, but maybe the next. After his earlier close call, Jellal wasn't so eager to find out what waited there, though. He kissed Erza firmly, letting her know in no uncertain terms that _she_ was the one he was thinking about. She bowed and sighed, the sound like mid-summer's breeze rushing through canary-grass. It reminded him of hot nights and sunny days. Of life.

Erza took his shirt and picked up where he left off, undoing the buttons with sure fingers. Between kisses she said, "I was frightened last night. I thought you were going to leave me."

"I thought so, too," Jellal said.

"I don't want to feel that way again." She kissed down his throat to his chest, the place just over his heart, and lower, mouth leaving a burning trail in her wake. She paused at the waistline of his pants so she could fight with the button. It came open. The material inched down. He was hard. Looking up, Erza met his eyes before she allowed herself to touch him, that way she could see the way his eyes drooped closed the moment her mouth closed around his body. She wasn't disappointed, the expression on his face mixed, pain and pleasure, like he thought he should be telling her no, but he couldn't gather the strength. That was fine, no was a word Erza never wanted to hear from Jellal's mouth.

She took him deep and listened for his groan. He went for her hair, as always, gathering it all together in his hands so he could clearly watch her work. She sucked until he was rigid and pulsing, until he was swearing and shaking, then took her mouth away and turned so her back was facing him. She was an hourglass, all shapes and curves. She spread her legs as wide as she could manage and looked over her shoulder. Her mouth glistened in Gomorrah's pale lamplight.

"Come here."

Jellal knelt, knees coming to rest between hers. He kissed her shoulder, finishing it off with a bite. She whimpered lowly and lifted her arms over her head to lock behind his neck. Jellal bowed into her, arching so he dug into her backside. Erza surprised herself with a pleased cry that tapered off into a low moan when he cupped her breasts and tugged the hardened tips. He continued until her hips writhed, forcing him to dig into her further, then dropped his hand to the place between her legs, massaging her swollen nub. She was wet, wet enough that he slipped over her easily. She huffed and sighed with every skilled swirl of his fingers, and whimpered when he pressed into her harder, rubbing against a place she was unused to.

 _This is real,_ Jellal told himself with every shattering cry Erza released. _This is the only thing that matters._ Drugs and girls he didn't know? Madam Genève and cold rivers filled with toxins that tried to bury him in detritus? Everything slipped into the background with Erza beneath his hands. She always pulled him out of the dark, even when he didn't want to step into the light.

He released her long enough to grab his shaft to aid in inching inside, mindful of hurting her. Erza sobbed and tightened her hold on his hair. Despite his waiting for her to get used to the new sensation, Erza backed up, bringing him deeper inside when he was too patient. He was buried totally to the base and still teasing her clitoris when she finally shivered and orgasmed. Her nails dug into his neck.

Relishing the moment, Jellal turned her words around on her. "Tell me you love me."

"Yes," Erza sobbed. It was nearly incoherent. "Yes."

It wasn't exactly the way he wanted it said, but he found he didn't really care when it all boiled down. He wrapped his arm around her waist and leaned back as well as she'd allow so he could watch their bodies meld together.

* * *

Day bled into night before Jellal discovered he was still capable of opening his eyes. At some point he and Erza had staggered to the bed. She was sprawled over top of him, a comforting weight. Her scarlet hair was in his mouth, spread across his chest. Her every breath tickled his skin.

Shuffling drew his eyes to the corner of the room. Sienna stood there, all red hair and blue eyes and freckles. She wore a crimson dress tonight, one that made her skin look all the paler. "Hello, Jellal."

"Mm… what are you doing in here?"

Erza shifted, coming awake with the deep tenor of his voice.

"Mr. York told me to tell you that Eli is awake," Sienna said. "He says come to the kitchen so you can do your questioning."

"The kitchen?" Erza muttered sleepily.

"Not you, Erza. Just Jellal," Sienna said apologetically.

Erza sat up and squinted, clutching the blankets around her chest. She was naked and still aching in so many good places, but Sienna was quickly taking away that high. "He can't go by himself."

Sienna pressed her black-painted lips together. "Mr. York says he has to. No one is allowed in this place except those he invites in, and neither of us have that privilege." She looked bitter as she said it.

"Which place?" Erza commanded.

"Noir," Jellal filled in where Sienna trailed off. "It's another casino, like Gomorrah."

"Where is it?" Erza asked.

"No one knows," Sienna said. "He's secretive about it."

Erza looked to Jellal. He seemed determined, which never boded well. "Jellal…"

"It won't be like last time, Erza," he promised. "I won't leave for the Vault without you."

"But you'll leave me here while you go do whatever it is you're going to do."

"I'm going to question Eli," he said.

"For what?"

"He knows how to get to her," Jellal said. "With him by my side I could walk into the Vault and end this quickly. I just… I need to know some things."

"Like what?" Erza demanded.

"I need to know what she holds over him."

" _Why?"_ Erza was only getting angrier.

"To honour a deal with Julian," Sienna said. "I'm sorry you have to do this, Jellal. He's been trying to dig around and get information on you, you know? He found out about the Tower of Heaven. He asked if you really did those things. Make that lacrima like those people said."

Erza flinched. Jellal sucked breath like he'd been kicked in the chest. Sienna searched his eyes, looking for a monster when all she'd known was the boy he used to be.

"I told him yes, only because I wanted our story to be more believable."

If only she knew that everything that happened inside that huge crystalline tower was only a fragment of the truth, just a faint glimpse of the horror he'd wrought. "I'll make the lacrima, Sienna. You won't lose your place here if I can help it."

She leaned back, looking only mildly relieved. Her wedge-wearing foot went up against the wall, supporting more of her weight. "You should get up and get dressed. He told you to hurry."

"You're not ditching me here again," Erza repeated. "The last time you nearly died."

As if he needed the reminder. "This will be different," Jellal said.

"I don't see _how_ ," Erza retorted.

He turned so they were eye-to-eye. He rested his hand on her cheek. "I'm not going far."

Her teeth clenched together hard. "I'm coming whether you or Julian like it or not."

Jellal recognized that stubborn bite to her jaw. He closed his eyes and basked in the low pulse of a slow-building migraine. It would be easier just to let her get up and join. "Very well." Let Julian York deal with Erza's wrath.

Erza threw back her blankets and stood, aware of her state and of Sienna's eyes on her skin but not nearly as bashful as she had been in the past. She started toward the closet.

"If you're going to try to get into Noir, you should wear the thing Natalie bought for you," Sienna called. "Julian will like it."

"I don't care what Julian likes," Erza replied, though she'd stalled her steps.

"You will if he's the one saying you can enter or not," Sienna said blandly. She walked to the nightstand and plucked up the box with its little bow, then came to Erza, handing it to her around her body. Her hands lingered around her waist, her eyes on her behind.

Erza accepted the box and tugged at the bow. Beneath was lime green tissue paper, and under that was a black lace and silver chain dress. The one she'd seen in that shop those days ago when she'd been on her way to the back of the Black Cat.

She looked over her shoulder into Sienna's gold-flecked eyes. There was a question on her tongue, one _'how did she know?_ ' but she thought that might be a question better directed to Natalie. Or Julian, actually, if he was in the habit of having people watched as he claimed. Apparently Jellal wasn't the only one Gomorrah's owner deemed worthy of attention.

"Thank you."

Erza blew out a short breath and got the dress from its box. Sienna took it from her without being asked and expertly sorted out the chains and lace in a way Erza would be at a loss for without magic. Sienna stooped and held open the dress, kneeling on the floor. Erza stepped into it carefully, aware of the girl's eyes on her body, and Jellal's, too. Her skin was alight with every touch Sienna bestowed upon her, intentional or otherwise. She let the girl get the dress up over the swell of her butt, and over her breasts when she could have done it on her own. She even let her adjust the chains at the front so they fell over her in such a way that everything that was supposed to be hidden was.

Fingers at her back did up the zipper. Erza looked over her shoulder to meet Jellal's eye. There was a heat in his gaze that burned her up right from the core. He was pressing into her again; he'd found shorts somewhere between the bed and her side, but it didn't do much to hide what he thought of her dress and the means she used to get into it.

Despite their audience, he cupped her breasts and kissed her on the neck with tongue and teeth. Erza shivered and wondered what it meant if she let him keep going.

Sienna cupped Erza's face, forcing Erza to look at her squarely. "I would very much like to kiss you."

Jellal squeezed her harder and pressed into her backside again. Erza's heart pounded throbbed. ' _Being high doesn't make us do things we don't want to do. It just makes us brave enough to do them._ ' She didn't know if that were true or not, but she kind of _wanted_ to know.

She wouldn't have done it if Jellal wasn't kissing her shoulder, breathing heavily like he was notably excited imagining what could come. Sienna met her halfway when she realized what Erza was doing, leaning forward like that. Her lipsticked mouth was sticky and sweet, her tongue warm and moist.

The requip mage didn't know what she thought it would be like, slow and sweet or rampant as it was, but she didn't expect the _thrill_ that arced through her at the sound of Jellal's strangled gasp, a thing that was caught some place between, _'Don't ever touch her,_ ' and _'Don't stop._ ' He pinched her hard, fingers sliding beneath the chains of her dress to brush over her sensitive breasts.

Sienna came flush against her, grabbed her behind and everywhere in between, then eased away. Her cheeks were red with excitement, her eyes glossy and her lipstick smeared. "Mm. That is a conversation I would _very_ much like to continue, Erza, when we're not running behind." Her voice was roughed silk.

Erza's skin bounced. Jellal still groped her, but he'd slowed, like he was gradually winding himself down, until he let his hands ease over her waist to her hips. He dropped one more kiss to her throat, this one tempered, then took a stabilizing breath and stepped away. He was ready to go, pressing hard against his shorts. Another thrill jigged through Erza's body. She didn't know how she felt about any of it.

"Excuse me." She tugged the hem of her dress to an appropriate length before she scurried into the bathroom, heart chattering in her chest.

Jellal looked after her until the bathroom door closed.

"Shy, isn't she?" Sienna asked.

But not really. "She's…" Something he couldn't wrap his head around.

Sienna grabbed him shamelessly, palming his hard cock and stroking it. "I hope she takes care of that, Jellal. Maybe she'll be feeling nice enough to let me help so I can find out exactly what she is." She stopped before Jellal could make her. "Get dressed, before I start to imagine that Julian's a patient man."

* * *

Erza put the finishing touches on her makeup, then exited again. She expected her cheeks to be hot with shame, but that wasn't what made her twitchy.

Jellal was fixing himself into a grey and navy suit with a thin black tie. He looked good in a way that made her want to go to him and undo all of the work he'd done to get himself that way.

Sienna said, "Are we ready?"

Perhaps that was the only reason Erza's feet stilled.

"Yes," Jellal answered for them both.

"Then follow me." Sienna waved theatrically to the exit. Instep with Jellal, he wrapped his arm around Erza's waist and brought them close together. He felt good beside her, like it was the place he was always meant to be. Sienna came to Erza's other side and locked her arm just above Jellal's.

* * *

Downstairs beside Gomorrah's bar, a man with thinning hair wearing a yellow tweed suit blocked their way.

"Sorry, Sienna, got strict orders to let Jellal in and that's it."

"Come on, Logan," Sienna begged. "Just call down and ask him, alright?"

"I got some dame coming to audition tonight. I don't really have time to be asking the boss if you can get into Noir or not. If he wanted you in there, you'd be in there, kapish?"

Sienna squeezed Erza's hip hard. Erza could tell she was backing down, not yet secure enough in her position here at Gomorrah.

"Call him and _tell_ him we're coming down," Erza said firmly.

"Who the fuck are you, eh?" the man asked.

"It's okay, Erza," Sienna said. "We can just sit at the bar and have a few. I heard this girl that's coming on stage tonight is really something."

"I'm getting into that casino." To Logan, she said, "You tell Julian York that he better be inviting us _all_ down, or he can just forget any amicable agreements we have between us."

Sienna said, "Erza, please. You don't really want to see Jellal do the rough work anyway, do you?"

Erza imagined what that meant, what Jellal would do to get the answers from Eli that he wanted. "I'm going down with him, whether Julian likes it or not. Or he can come up here. Those are his two options, tell him."

"No need," said a familiar voice.

Erza turned and met Julian's eye. "It seems you have a habit of lurking."

"Is it lurking if it's my casino?" Julian asked.

"Sorry, boss," Logan cut in. "I was just telling them this guy gets in and that's it."

Julian's smile didn't meet his eyes. "And waste a perfectly good dress? Come, Erza, Jellal. Sienna." He tagged that one on last. "Autumn can't sing tonight. Maybe you want to come down and take her place?"

Sienna verily swooned. "In Noir?"

"Yes."

" _Yes._ Let me change. I have the perfect—"

"It doesn't matter," Julian said. "It'll be on my private stage."

The light in Sienna's eyes didn't dim at all. "Yes, Sir."

"This way." Julian cut in between Jellal and Erza, wrapping his arm around both of their shoulders. There was a fat cigar in one hand, scotch in the other.

"Celebrating tonight, Julian?" Erza asked.

"Everything's coming up gold, Erza, gorgeous, why the fuck not?"

"You and I have very different ideas of gold," Jellal muttered.

Erza looked past Julian to Jellal. His eyes were on the slots and the people at the end of the bar puffing something with thick white smoke. She wanted to ask what bothered him, but she thought that lately, it was just about everything. Sienna took her hand and they entered Gomorrah's kitchen, leaving Logan and his auditioning singer behind.

* * *

 _Way_ saucier than planned.

Sorry for the delay!


	22. Chapter 22

Cologne and scotch and Silver. That's all Jellal could smell as he walked through Gomorrah. Silver. Silver.

Silver.

All he could think.

Coming into the kitchen, other things tried to distract him.

Honeyed duck. Rosemary vegetables. Sweet potatoes. Salted caramel crème brûlée for dessert.

Jellal's stomach didn't grumble, though it definitely felt like an empty pit. He hadn't been brave enough to try to keep anything down, other than water, after his encounter at Silver River. He still couldn't imagine eating anything.

Julian's hold around his neck was tight, his steps sure as he guided them through his hotel's kitchen. Everyone that looked their way said a, "Hello, Mr. York." They regarded him with a respect that Jellal envied, not because he'd never received respect in his life, but because all of his was earned through fear. _And Julian's is bought_. Maybe sometimes being a monster was best. At least the way people looked at you was real.

Julian tugged Erza closer to his body as they approached the freezer. His grip on her was especially firm, as though he were afraid she'd slip away. Jellal wondered how much longer she'd let him hold onto her. She played along, for now. Then again, he didn't imagine she'd let Sienna touch her so much. Maybe he didn't know her as well as he thought. Maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. He wished Sienna would touch her again just so he could hear that shocked cry on Erza's lips. The pleasure and the disorder and the want. It wasn't what she was used to. He knew that without ever having to be told. Yet, she hadn't hated it. Even liked it some. Suddenly he wished Julian wasn't between them. He wished they weren't on their way to Noir. He wished that Eli didn't wait for them. He wished a lot of things. He slid his hand behind Julian's back so he could feel Erza's skin through the lace and chain of that amazing dress she wore.

She was as warm as she'd ever been. He brushed his fingers through the ends of her hair. Her eyes drifted over to meet his. She didn't smile, but she did take him in with a certain kind of hunger. Together, they'd burn each other up, he thought. Now that he had her, he could never imagine being apart. It was good to blaze in a fire if that fire was Erza.

A woman with short hair came away from the wall beside the freezer and opened the door for their group.

"Thank you, Terri," Julian murmured on the way by. The girl smiled shyly, like she was regarded by a king and not a man with too much money and too much privilege.

"Have a good evening, Mr. York."

Julian released them to step into the freezer. Jellal immediately reached for Erza's hand, wanting to feel her skin on his. Her fingers clenched, rooting him in reality. They stepped inside the freezer and the world melted, the freezing innards replaced by a golden room.

Erza's eyes went wide. "What is this place?"

"The Gold Room," Julian said shortly.

"Natalie says it'll take us to Noir," Sienna said in a reverent whisper.

"Natalie shouldn't be telling my secrets, I don't think," Julian said. His eyes bore into Sienna, picking her apart. Sienna flushed.

"I didn't tell anyone, Mr. York. Except—except for now. I thought it was okay. I—"

"Enough, Sienna," Julian said, tired of her floundering. He passed his cigar into the hand with the scotch then crossed his arms over his chest. To the room he spoke, "Noir, Miss Edgar. My lounge."

"Yes, Mr. York."

"Hang on," Jellal told Erza.

"Hang on?" she repeated.

"First time's always bumpy," Julian added.

There wasn't anything to grab. Nor was there time. The air got dense. Then the room totally inverted and Erza understood what Julian meant.

Jellal's hands around her waist were steadying, but still, the jarring she received was enough to yank her from his grasp. She stumbled back into Sienna. When she too went careening, Erza found herself against Julian next. Jarred, his scotch spilled, missing Erza's dress but getting her hand. She hardly noticed, so out of sorts while the room contorted in a way it was never, ever meant to. The floor disappeared from beneath her feet. Before she could fall, it reappeared again. And then it was the ceiling that went away. The walls closed in on her. Then they didn't. The air disappeared. Reappeared.

 _Gods._

And then it was over. It was a good thing; Erza didn't know how much more she could stand. The lights overhead flickered before steadying out.

"That was a rough one," Julian mused, not looking particularly happy that his scotch was spilled all over the floor.

"Sorry, Mr. York," a disembodied voice said. "I've never done so many people before."

"It'll be smoother next time," Julian said, not like he was encouraging her, but like he was demanding it.

"Yes, Sir."

Erza pulled away from Julian, still dizzy. He grabbed her hand, preventing her from getting too far away and twisted it over. Before she could say or do anything, he flicked his tongue over her skin, moving from wrist to the tip of her middle finger, taking away the scotch that wetted her skin. His mouth was warm and smooth. Erza's stomach both flopped and clenched. From somewhere behind them, Jellal made a noise of protest. Erza yanked her hand away. She didn't bother looking at the outraged look on Jellal's face, she could imagine it well enough.

"Don't."

Julian smiled, not bothering to offer an apology. The door opened from the outside, severing the tense situation, inviting them into Julian's lounge.

The floors and walls were just as dark as before, like the midnight star-studded sky. The leather couches were empty and only a bottle of scotch occupied the glass coffee table, the hookah stashed away for another time.

A topless woman in a short skirt emerged from the shadows. Her hair was as dark as onyx. "Good evening, Mr. York."

Jellal glanced at Erza to see how she'd take the strange way Julian made his people dress. Her cheeks were red, her eyes fixed on the floor.

"Win," Julian asked, "How is Mr. Tase doing?"

"He's conscious," the woman replied. "And mean."

Julian's smile hadn't faded. "That's what I like to hear. I spilled my drink in the Gold Room. Get it cleaned up before we have any more guests."

The woman nodded and hurried to do just that.

Julian turned to Sienna and Erza. "Welcome to my private room in Noir. Sienna, the stage door is there." He pointed to a near invisible cut out in the back wall. "Go and get set up. There's drinks back there if you want."

"Thank you, Mr. York." She rose on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, then twitched away, hips swaying.

"She was a good find," Julian said absently. "Genève does impart some valuable skills, and her tastes are undeniable. Maybe when the bitch is dead, all of her whores will walk Gomorrah's halls. That would certainly be satisfying after she double-crossed me." He looked to Jellal. "My only regret is that she won't be alive to see it."

Jellal ignored Erza as he said, "Are you saying you don't want her dead?"

"You'll never hear those words come out of my mouth," Julian replied.

Jellal felt Erza's eyes digging into his skin. He wanted to stop talking, but couldn't. "That's good, because I'll never stop until she's buried."

"We should start then." Julian pulled a lacrima from his pocket and spoke into the clear surface. "Bring him in, Evan."

Another door Jellal missed opened and Eli entered, pushed from behind by a tall, sandy haired man. Hands bound before him, legs lashed together, he walked awkwardly. The situation was made worse by the black sack that was tugged down over his face. Unable to see, his steps were halting. Maybe that wasn't the only reason. Drugged, if Jellal had to guess.

"That's dramatic, isn't it?" Julian asked.

Evan said, "Mien is dead. This asshole—he made him kill himself. Mein put a gun right in his mouth and blew his brains out like he _wanted_ to do it."

Jellal watched Evan. Every limb shook. He was twitchy, on the verge of pulling out his own gun and shooting Eli even though he was bound. _Though not helpless,_ Jellal thought.

"I shot him up with more of that stuff you gave me, boss, but I didn't like the way he was looking at me, so I put the sack on his head," Evan finished.

 _Iblis._

Julian sighed. "You're fucking pathetic. Sit him down."

Evan pushed Eli to one of the leather chairs, looking shamefaced.

"Now," Julian said. "Take the clip from your gun and take all the bullets except for one. No need to give him a chance to do more damage than necessary."

Evan rushed to do what he said. The gun clicked and clacked, sounding cold to Jellal's ears. He glanced at Erza. She studied the weapon as one studies a deadly snake, wary of the killing power it possessed. It wasn't _like_ a sword. Guns let people be colder. And that's why Jellal used a knife. Keep things _real_. To have a respect for the lives he took. _That's what I tell myself, anyway_ , he thought bitterly, thinking of his too-vocal reflection and the demons that lived in his head.

"Good. Put it on the table and get the fuck out, Evan. I'm sick of looking at you."

"Mr. York—he might get uppity again," Evan protested. He didn't look like he particularly _cared,_ though, he was just saying what he thought he _should_ , to keep his job, to keep his dignity. Julian saw through his words.

"Just get out. Go clean Mien off the walls."

Evan dropped his gun where he was supposed to, tucking the rest of the bullets into his pocket, and left without another word of protest, maybe ashamed but happy to be leaving.

Julian heaved a huge sigh and tore the sack off Eli's face. He'd been beaten, his lip split, his eye black and mostly closed. He looked totally out of it, not seeing Noir's belly, but something else entirely. Someone had given him new clothes, these one simple, black pants, a black long sleeved T-shirt.

The lights on the stage dimmed. Red velvet curtains whooshed back to reveal a piano in the back corner, occupied by someone whose face was hidden in shadow. Sienna stepped on stage, drawing attention away from the pianist. She'd found sparkles somewhere, they kissed her cheeks and gleamed in the light. If she was nervous, she made a good play at looking collected.

Her heels _clicked_ coming to the microphone. The piano started, a slow, melancholy tune. Sienna started to sing.

 _'Being the girl on the side,  
I don't get roses or diamond rings,  
Being the girl on the side,  
I don't get sweet kisses'_

Her voice was husky and melodic, rough around the edges. Unique.

"Natalie was right about her, I think," Julian mused. "She's nice to listen to. Why don't you sit, Erza? Enjoy it a little."

 _'But you haven't seen my man.  
You haven't seen him be good  
You haven't seen my man.  
You haven't seen him be bad.'_

Erza chose the seat closest to Eli and tugged her magic up to the surface so it was sitting _right there_ if she needed it. She kept Jellal in her sights, wary of the expression on his face. It was familiar; the last time she'd seen it, she'd been kneeling on the hard floor of the Tower of Heaven, waiting for mercy that he'd never give.

She made herself sit back and fought for a scrap of trust. How could she love someone and not totally trust them?

When Erza was settled, Julian poured drinks for everyone and handed them around. Jellal took his and downed it immediately. Erza hesitated even accepting it.

Julian said, "Don't look so tense, Erza."

"There's a man drugged and restrained in a chair," Erza pointed out. "How should I be?" She didn't mention that Jellal was making her uneasy; voicing her concern felt like summoning a beast.

"You're welcome to go back upstairs, or…" He got pensive. "You could even wander Noir's casino, Erza. I would be happy to have you as a guest."

Erza dug her feet in. "No."

Jellal couldn't tell if that feeling in his chest was relief or disappointment; doing his job would be easier without Erza around. He'd be less afraid to be the monster he needed to be. On the other hand, he'd be less afraid to be the monster he needed to be. There was no winning.

"Sure," Julian said.

The song up on stage had changed.

 _'Black sunset kisses,  
Waking up in the snow,  
Your body here beside me,  
Nobody has to know,'_

Julian focused on Eli and nudged the man's scuffed boots with his own expensive leather shoes, trying to get a response. Eli looked on blankly. Deciding that he'd rather not put in the effort, he waved Jellal on. "Go ahead, wake him up, Jellal."

Jellal's stomach flopped once with nervousness, not fearful of Eli exactly, but what he could make him see. _Or do_. "We should put the gun away."

Julian said, "If I do that, Jellal, how am I supposed to shoot him if he decides he wants to be an asshole?"

Jellal ignored the probing look Erza gave him as he said, "We both know your magic is plenty capable of doing the job."

"Messy, though," Julian said.

Jellal was firm. "I won't risk him forcing any of us to shoot each other."

Julian sighed and nodded. Another girl appeared from the shadows, nude from the waist up and blonde. It was as if Julian just had them stowed away, waiting for his beck and call. "Take the gun out of the room, Heather."

"Yes, Sir." She picked it up like she was handling a deadly spider. Maybe she was, with Eli in the room. When she'd sashayed out of sight, Julian regarded Jellal again. "Now, you say you can make him see things our way, go ahead. Show me what you can do."

Jellal crouched beside Eli's chair and tapped his cheek rougher than what was strictly necessary. Eli's head only lolled. "Hey." Jellal shook him. "Look at me."

He only muttered nonsensically, looking sweaty and pale again.

"Fucking Evan, and his fucking drugs," Julian swore. He went to his table and took a needle from a drawer beneath. It was filled with cloudy white fluid.

"What is that?" Jellal asked.

"Same thing that's in that little red pill," Julian replied absently. He grabbed Eli's arm, turning it so his forearm was facing the ceiling. Just as he was about to jab the end in, Eli came alive, spitting curses and thrashing. Realizing he didn't have anywhere to go, he turned to his magic. It filled the air, thick and pungent. Julian's face blanked. Jellal never considered himself trigger-happy before, but he was so wound up, his first reaction was to reel back and punch Eli mercilessly. Cold-cocked and still mostly drugged, he went slack, not unconscious, but off balance enough that his magic failed.

On stage, Sienna's voice faltered. Beside Jellal, Erza stood, her magic playing over her skin so that her armour was half-formed.

"Don't, Erza," Jellal said. "You'll only give him weapons."

She breathed deeply, calming herself. "How are we supposed to reason with him if his first reaction is to attack us?"

"What would your first reaction be?" Jellal wondered.

Sienna started singing again.

' _Shadow play,  
Roses and things,  
You kiss me and say goodbye_

 _'Like you are a demon,  
But you're only dreaming,  
I know who you are inside.'_

" _My_ first reaction would be to kill the little fucker," Julian replied before Erza could. Furious, he grabbed Eli's shirt by the collar and yanked him up so his head tipped back. His eyes were barely open. "I want to _talk,_ Mr. Tase, but I'm not too good to be killing. If you try that again, I'll forget the niceties. Got that?"

Eli blinked, belying his half-dead state. "So kill me." His voice was a hoarse whisper. Being so close to death hadn't curbed his want for the reaper's halls.

"Trust me, the thought's crossed my mind." Calmness washed over Julian, like a switch was flipped. "But then I think, if I killed you, how could we help each other?"

Eli swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. "You don't want my help; you want what I can do. My magic."

"Should I want to hold your fucking hand?" Julian snapped. "Is that what you're sore about?"

Eli laughed at that. It was genuine. His teeth were pink with blood. Jellal felt a little guilty, considering he was tied.

"Everyone talks about you. Julian _York_. You show up in town with your fucking money and your fucking balls on display, and then you try to take over and get pissy when it doesn't go like you envisioned. I guess not much of anything's working out the way you want, is it?"

Julian got thoughtful. "You know, you're the one tied up sitting in _my_ chair, in _my_ house, right? Just saying. Stop fucking around and let's talk business."

Eli summoned some strength and jerked out of Julian's grasp as best he could. "I'm not dealing with you."

Julian raised his eyes to Jellal's. It was a fast look, one overburdened with annoyance. He was on the verge of letting the whole plan go up in smoke.

"I mean," Eli said, "Why would I want to deal with a pissant cocksucker that can't even do his own dirty work? You talk about your guns and your killing." He snorted. "But I bet you're just like Madam Genève, afraid to get your hands dirty, hiring Yes Men to do it all for you while you sit on your throne and _rot._ Have you ever even picked up a gun before? You want me to show you where the trigger is?"

Julian toed the line of rage. "It'd be best not to talk like that when I'm trying to offer you a deal."

"I'm not a Yes Man. I won't do anything for you. Ever," Eli added. "I'd rather die. She's going to carve you up, you know that, right? She won't even throw you in Scarlet Lake, she'll cut your fucking head off and stake it in front of the Welcome to Innisfil sign. This casino? She'll raze it all and take everything you have."

Julian only got angrier with every word. He was looking to where the gun used to be, then he was reaching for his own magic.

"He's egging you on," Jellal said mildly. "He wants you to kill him."

"He's real fucking close to getting his wish," Julian muttered. Louder, he said, "What do I have to do, Eli, to get you to leave Genève's services?"

"There isn't anything you can offer me," Eli said immediately.

"That's a lie. Everyone wants something," Julian said. "Just name it."

Something flashed behind Eli's eye, something hopeful. "The only way to get me to leave her services is to kill me."

"You're not dying," Jellal said mildly. "Not until you tell me more about Celia."

"Celia? Dunno who that is." Eli tried to pretend like the name meant nothing, but Jellal saw the way he tensed and looked fleetingly at Julian and Erza. It wasn't a secret he wanted shared.

"Celia?" Julian repeated. He was no fool. He catalogued the name away. Jellal wondered if he'd made a mistake, showed his hand not only too early, but to the wrong player. Julian was always looking for the advantage. _Worry about that later._

"Let me talk to him."

Julian poured himself another scotch, confident now that he had _something_ , no matter how vague it was. "No one's stopping you."

"Alone."

"No," Erza said immediately.

Jellal never thought he'd hear that thread of panic in her voice directed at him, as if he were someone that needed to be protected. ' _Tell me you love me_.' He didn't fight with her. To Julian he said, "Is there a private room where Eli and I can talk?"

"It doesn't matter where you take me," Eli interjected. "My answer won't change. I'm never going to work for this pus-dick."

Jellal thought Julian would be furious with Eli, but he'd brought out his cold side. While his face was blank of anger, he carried plenty suspicion, as if he were expecting Jellal to double-cross him. "Anything you want to say to him can be said here, I think."

"Did you not just hear me?" Eli asked.

Jellal kept his eyes away from Eli. He felt the man probing at his head, looking for ammunition, but Eli was so fucked up, he was having a hard time doing much of anything: sitting upright, even talking was a challenge. A magical attack was something that was _just_ out of reach when his targets were aware of his presence. Jellal stood straight and said bluntly, "He's never going to make a deal like this, not with you breathing down his throat and Erza glaring at him, thinking of all the swords she has that'll cut him open quick."

Erza opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again, deciding she wasn't much of a liar.

"Just give me five," Jellal said. "I'll get what I need."

Eli laughed. "You're fucking insane; you know that? Delusional. Hey, Lunchbox—"

Jellal stopped listening, focusing only on Julian and Erza. The redhead's eyes were on Eli, though, and with every word he uttered, he came closer and closer to tasting the hilt of her dagger again. Only a stupid man pissed her off. Or one that didn't know the danger he toed. Jellal let Eli keep going, a firm believer in hard lessons.

Julian let his eyes come away from Eli. "I trust I don't have to explain what happens to people that betray me?"

"I don't have any interest in anything you've built here," Jellal told him.

"That's what all men say," Julian said, "Until they have a gun in their hand and millions sitting at their feet."

"This asshole likes the simpler things. Blood." Apparently Jellal didn't do as good a job as he thought blocking Eli out. "Loads and loads of it. Not money, not drugs. Oh, unless it's Silver. After our swim there, you love that one, don't you, Jellal? Got some Silver, some slots, some redheaded bitch he can pretend with when this one here realizes she doesn't like to get cut—"

Erza grabbed Eli around the collar roughly and pulled him in so they were nose-to-nose. " _Shut. Up._ "

Eli's manic look returned full-force. He thought Erza would do what Jellal would not. Kill him. Though his throat was tight and small, Jellal touched Erza's shoulder gently, silently asking her to release him. It was a struggle. She didn't have to say how much she wanted to hit the man, it was painted all over her face.

Forcing a collected expression, Jellal said to Julian, "I have no gun. You know I don't like to use them."

Julian looked between Eli and Jellal. "Not all guns are made of steel."

Fair enough. "I give you my word I won't betray you."

"That's good, Jellal, I like you." Julian straightened his suit. "It'd be a shame to be stabbed in the back. In the face of our friendship, you can have your privacy. I ask that you stay in this room to conduct your questioning, though."

"Not fine," Erza disagreed. "Jellal, this man tried to kill you." _And almost succeeded._

She didn't need to say the last, it was written all over her face. Her silence didn't save him any humiliation. He toughened his skin. Pride had almost taken everything from him more than once. "Please, Erza."

Eli said, "That's not going to help any, eh? She's never going to leave, she doesn't fucking trust you. She knows how fucked up you are, Jellal, almost as well as I do. She thinks as soon as she walks out that door, you're going to start doing what you do best. Why don't you just take that knife out now, eh? Why pretend? She already knows you're a fucking psychopathic loser."

Jellal's knife felt heavy in his pocket. Heavy enough to take out. Sensing the attack, he blocked the man out of his head.

"I thought I told you to shut up?" Erza said.

Eli's magic came again, this time directed at Erza. "You're right, he _is_ wearing the _exact_ same expression as he was when you were on your knees in the Tower of Heaven. Know what that says to me, Erza? You're smarter than you look. He _will_ try to sacrifice you to the next god he thinks comes around, offering him power. If the deal's good enough, maybe he'll actually grow some balls and go through with it. Is that a risk you're willing to take? How many more times can he break your heart?"

Erza stood abruptly. Jellal thought it was to beat Eli, but she only came to Jellal's side and took his face in her hands. "I do trust you." She kissed him thoroughly. There was no doubt in her lips. It helped Jellal believe in himself, too. Then she left, proving once and for all she had faith that he wouldn't do anything irreparable.

Julian clapped Jellal on the back. "I really, _really_ like these seats. I know he's an asshole, but try not to mess them up with blood if you don't have to, alright? I'd rather not have to pay my people to waste time cleaning. We'll be nearby." Then he was gone.

Jellal squeezed the lapel of his jacket, watching Erza and Julian leave until the door closed behind them, taking them out to another part of Noir. On stage, Sienna changed songs.

 _'The embers of the fire,  
Slowly die,  
Yet we stay,  
Side by side_

 _Can't get away,  
Can't get away,  
Can't get away from the monster  
You make of me._

 _I'm starting to believe,  
This is who I want to be.'_

* * *

Erza paced the hallway just outside of Julian's lounge, her short dress swirling around her knees. Every step was loud. She wanted to tear off her heels so she did, throwing them against the wall with frustration.

"You look lovely tonight," Julian said. "I'm not sure if I told you that or not."

Erza gave him a fleeting look. "Thank you." Because that's what you said when people complimented you, even when you were out of sorts.

"Would you like to find someplace else to relax while Jellal works?" Julian asked.

"No." She said it shortly.

"We're not being very productive out here," he pointed out. "I have drinks in my private room."

Erza stopped pacing and faced him. "We wouldn't be very productive in your bed, either, Julian."

He looked her over, a smirk on his face. "I disagree."

Erza's ears felt hot. "I will say this once. I'm _not_ interested _."_

He was persistent, brushing her hair back from her shoulder. His fingers were warm; the touch tickled. "You haven't even tried, so how could you say that?"

"The last man that touched me without asking left with a broken nose," she said coldly. "I'm not afraid to give you the same treatment."

"I have people watching that would protest," he told her.

"I've used my swords to cut through hundreds of beasts wearing more frightening faces than you. Guns, even an army of them, won't make me falter." Maybe falter, but not stop. Not that she'd ever admit it aloud.

He looked intrigued, not furious. His hand left her arm. "Very well; let me ask permission. May I touch you, Erza?"

"No," she sputtered.

Julian leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest, not like a man that had lost, but like a man that was hunkering down for a chase. "Jellal is a very lucky man."

Erza didn't know what to say, so she went back to pacing. When the silence became uncomfortable, she said, "I don't know if he'll ever work for you."

"There's an easy way to get men to do what you want them to, Erza," Julian drawled. His eyes were on her, watching every movement. He wasn't leering, exactly, but definitely studying. There was a hungry look to him; he wasn't used to being denied, and instead of sulking about it, it only made him want it more.

She didn't cross her arms over her body, though she wanted to. "And what's that?" She didn't know why she asked.

"You find out what's important to them and you do everything in your power to have it within your possession."

* * *

Eli's hazel eyes dug into Jellal's. Jellal met his gaze steadily, knowing that the look on his face was much more confident than he actually felt.

"What are you going to do when this drug wears off and I make you cut your own throat out?"

"You won't," Jellal replied.

He laughed, the sound low. "You're wrong. You should kill me—"

"She's your sister, isn't she?" Jellal cut in.

Eli's smirk dropped off.

"I didn't see it at first, but it's in the nose, and the mouth. She's not as fucking miserable as you are, though, even though she's being sold around when you don't do what Madam wants. I think that's what threw me off and made it hard to pick out."

Eli said, "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"No sense in denying it. I know it's the truth" Jellal leaned back and crossed his arms thoughtfully. "How'd Celia come to be in her possession?"

Eli was mute.

"Sure. Be quiet. I'll talk. You know, dying won't change her position? She's just the kind of girl Madam likes. She's young, she's beautiful, and the men will love her. More importantly, _Madam_ loves her. Does she bring her into her private room and brush her hair? Does she tell her that she's _magnifique?"_ There was a faint jealous pang he felt deep in his guts. He carved it out as best he could. When he was done, he felt raw. "Maybe she even makes you watch. That's just the kind of fucked up thing she likes, right?"

Eli's throat bobbed. "I told you—"

"If you kill yourself, she'll sell her again and again to the most sadistic bidder. It won't be about money; it'll just be about spiting you. Is that what you want for her? She's what, ten? Twelve, at most? She can still have a life, Eli. She can get away from this, but only if her brother is there to help her."

Eli's hard marble façade cracked. "Even if she could get away, she'd just be taken again, used _again_ by some other asshole that wants my magic. _This_ asshole, probably." He looked around Noir as soon as he'd shut up, ashamed that he'd spilled that much.

A new voice joined the conversation. "Julian's fair. He pays money for the people he wants working for him. Holding a young girl captive isn't really his style."

Jellal looked up and met Natalie's darkly lined eyes. She was in a jade green dress with a deep V neckline and cap sleeves, and high black stiletto heels. Her brunette hair fell in loose curls that captured the lounge's low light and shone—though not quite as bright as the gun in her hand. She looked at Eli, eyes boring into him mercilessly. There was an awful lot of hate there. But also hesitation. And sadness. Natalie the bleeding heart. Jellal had never seen her more clearly. She was fierce and loyal to those she loved, but she also wanted to believe in the good in people. Which made her sympathetic. He wondered how long she'd been listening to them for.

"I don't know if you should be in here, Natalie," Jellal said. He glanced first at Natalie's weapon, then Eli's way. The man took Natalie in eagerly. At first Jellal thought it was because he was thinking of a way to use her obvious discontent to his advantage, but no, the look on his face was easily read. Stunned. Natalie's effect hit harder in the flesh than it had in Jellal's hazy memory.

The brunette said, "That's really kind of you, Jellal, but I don't remember asking your opinion." She walked right to Eli's chair and fearlessly brushed his dark hair back from his forehead so she could see all of the bruises and cuts. "I was expecting someone who looked more like a monster, considering what you do for her."

Eli looked away.

Natalie's fingers traced his black eye. "All of the rumors say you're a merciless killer. You don't look so fierce now."

"No one has ever accused me of being a nice guy," Eli finally spoke. His voice was hoarse.

On stage, Sienna stopped singing before her song was done and made for the exit, her eyes on Natalie as she catalogued every one of Eli's wounds. Jellal didn't know why he let it go on. Morbid curiosity, maybe, desperate to taste someone else's fury after so long living with his own. But Natalie… she didn't _want_ to be all wrath and no sustenance. She wasn't mean by nature. The whole thing made her uncomfortable. Even holding the gun was a burden. _And that's why she tried to get you to do the damage._ Not very hard.

Natalie turned Eli's face so he was forced to look at her. "There is a lot I would do for the people I love, too. In that way, we're a lot alike. And other ways, too, I imagine."

"I'm nothing like Julian York's best kept concubine," Eli said roughly.

She searched his eyes. "They say you can read minds."

Jellal said, "Get out of here, before he gets any strange ideas, Natalie."

She ignored Jellal's warning. "Read mine and see I don't lie."

Sienna came into the main room and crossed the floor with hurried steps. "Get away from him, Natalie." Too late, Eli's magic whipped out. Natalie's eyes blanked. Jellal expected her to stand, press the gun either against her temple or his. He wondered if he'd do the simple thing and kill her, keeping Eli, the one with the more inherent value, alive. _We'll all be dead then._ Because Julian would kill Eli, and then he'd do everything in his power to kill Jellal, too.

"Let her go, Eli." Jellal's voice came out calmly, just as he hoped, though he felt like the situation was on the verge of going very, very far south. Eli didn't respond. He was digging for information, learning everything Natalie could possibly offer.

" _Eli_."

"Let go of her," Sienna was more than halfway there, her eyes wide with fear. Jellal knew a liability when he saw one. Maybe Natalie was reluctant to kill, but Sienna…. He wasn't sure what she'd do if she were backed into a corner. Maybe nothing, but a lifetime of abuse could make a killer out of anyone.

He shouldn't have worried, Eli released Natalie a heartbeat later, a stunned expression on his face. "You're—"

"It's rude to tell people's secrets," Natalie cut in. She looked shaken, and like she was gearing herself up for something terrible.

Eli fell quiet. Sienna slowed, the manic look not leaving her face, but toning down a few notches. Jellal's whole body was still incredibly tense.

Natalie waited another beat for Eli to say whatever it was he was longing to. He didn't, so she filled in the silence. "Julian will help you get her back, if you really do want to help your sister." Sienna came to her side and grabbed her hand, like holding it would protect her from anything Eli could do.

Jellal watched the situation unfold, holding his breath, waiting for Eli to shoot her down again.

Eli expelled the desperate and shocked man he'd been a slave to and donned the cocky face he wore like armour. "If I agree to help him, do we get to spend some time together?"

Natalie looked both repulsed and intrigued. And relieved. Her smile was small. "Maybe." Jellal wondered if Eli knew she was stringing him along, getting out of him what Julian wanted. He also wondered if Natalie knew what kind of ledge she toed. Gaining Julian's approval wasn't worth inviting a devil out to play.

Eli was reluctant to look away from the brunette but managed. To Jellal he said, "Fine. I'll tell you how to get in to kill Madam Genève and I'll tell you how she makes the anti-magic room in exchange for Celia's freedom."

Jellal peeked at Sienna first. "Tell me how to do the lacrimas first."

"Come on, Jellal, you know it's not going to be that easy," Eli said. "I'll give you my secrets when Celia's out of Madam Genève's whorehouse and here safe with me."

"Understandable," Jellal agreed.

Eli said, "The easiest way will be to get in there and try to hire her." His face was sour saying it. "She's taken to selling Celia to women because she knows she's uncomfortable with it. To get her out, you're going to have to be creative."

"We'll think of something else. I don't know any women who—"

Eli's smile was slow. "You don't? If I'm not mistaken, you're awfully chummy with a certain redhead Madam's more than a little interested in."

Jellal's throat felt small. "Not only does Erza not have an invitation to enter, Madam wants to kill her for Adisa's disappearance."

Eli shrugged. "I didn't say it was going to be easy. The other option is, you can tell Julian York to fuck his hat and I'll keep doing things the way I was doing them."

"I'll think on it," Jellal said. There had to be an easier way. A way that didn't put Erza in the line of fire.

"While you do, you can also think about how you're going to take out her remaining guard," Eli said.

"Haya."

He nodded. "She likes to sit on the docks on the east end of Scarlet Lake before she takes her clients. Some sort of meditation bullshit. She's always on her own then. Maybe you can get a jump on her."

Why get a jump on her, though, when he still owed her for sharing her secrets? The only thing she'd be suspicious of was how he found his way to her, yet Innisfil was full of eyes and ears. "That won't be a problem." _Are you really going to kill her?_ He didn't know. He didn't want to _have_ to. He sort of liked Haya. He didn't know if she was innocent or not, but he wanted her to be.

"Better get moving then," Eli said with a vicious grin. "She always takes her first client at eleven."

From the corner of his eye, Jellal watched the pianist rise. He nearly dismissed the movement, except the person started reaching into their pocket. Curious, he gifted them all of his attention.

It didn't stop the bullet that slammed into his chest, but it made using his magic to kill them easier.

* * *

Thank you so much for your support, guys. (You're my favorite group of readers. Just saying).

-Freyja


	23. Chapter 23

A gunshot was an unmistakable sound. Hearing it, Erza's mind blanked, paralyzing her, even while adrenaline shot through her heart, begging her to get motivational. It was a torturous state, needing to move but being unable to. A myriad of thoughts shot through her head, one worry after another taking root and blooming into sporous monstrosities, loud and poisonous. The most prevalent of those thoughts were, maybe Jellal wasn't a person that could be trusted after all. Maybe her first instinct was right, and he was only interested in killing. He was only interested in blood and pain.

Only seconds had passed, but it felt like a lifetime while she thought all the things she'd spent years suppressing.

Eventually, her brain hopped tracks. _'We should put the gun away_.' So he couldn't shoot anyone. So...

So.

So if Jellal didn't have a gun to shoot, who was doing the shooting?

Another second slipped by. A high-pitched scream shattered the false silence.

Julian had been looking stunned and sort of lost, thrown off his game, but when he heard that sound he cussed and moved. Maybe he said Natalie's name, Erza wasn't sure. Not to be outdone by a greying man with a sly tongue and a knack for getting his way, Erza got her feet to move. The first step was hardest, like coming unstuck from silty clay. Everything after that, though, was easy. Without her restrictive heels on, she ran fast, outpacing Julian in no time.

The door beneath her hands spread open, depositing her back into Julian's lounge. The smell of blood was thick in the air. She looked first to Eli sitting up in his chair, wearing the face of a stunned man. Sienna and Natalie came into focus next, Natalie standing next to the redhead, chest rising and falling too quickly, Sienna on her knees, bearing down on something red. Erza followed the line of Sienna's arms and found Jellal at last.

Jellal, Jellal.

A pool of red spread out beneath his body, expanding far too quickly, despite the pressure Sienna applied, allowing him to slip away. _Not again._ Erza's lungs burned. Her vision swam. _Breathe_. Her first instinct was to go to him, but that was foolish when she didn't know if the threat had passed. Using what felt like someone else's eyes, she surveyed the room, lagging on the stage where the remnants of a man lay crumpled and wet. _Just like Simon had been,_ her mind whispered.

A strangled cry snuck out of her throat. Knowing how useless it was to keen or dwell in the past, she closed the rest of the distance and fell to Jellal's side, praying, though it had been a long, long time since she'd believed in any god.

"Erza," Sienna started. Her voice was choked. With fear, Erza realized. That was something she could deal without. Fear had no place in her heart.

"Move." She pushed Sienna's sopping hands aside and saw where Jellal had been shot. Between his armpit and clavicle. He bled so much. Every time his heart beat, a red spurt erupted like a miniature geyser. That cursed whining was back in her throat. She held her breath, severing the sound, and jammed her palms against his chest, hoping to stop the blood.

"Get your healer."

"Erza." Julian's voice held a quality she didn't much like.

"Get him."

"Wilber is exhausted after his efforts with Eli."

 _So he can't_ , is what he was trying to say. Erza refused to hear it. "I don't give a fuck. Get your healer."

"Try to understand—"

"I'll do anything," Erza said, too shaken for threats. "He's dying." His skin was waxy. Pale like it was never meant to be.

"Anything?" Julian asked, always one to barter.

Erza wasn't in the mood. She met his eyes squarely. He must have liked what he saw there because he lifted his voice and said, "Send for Wilber. And be fast."

She didn't even see who he spoke to. The door closed as someone rushed to do his bidding.

Help was coming. Her muscles quaked. Or so she thought. She realized that it was Jellal's lungs fluttering beneath her palms.

Julian's voice cut through Erza's daze. "What happened?"

It was Eli that answered. "You got a hole where rats can get in, York. Your pianist had more than music on his mind tonight."

Julian looked to the stage, seeing the mess Jellal had made. The body was unidentifiable, especially from this vantage point. "Who was on tonight?"

Natalie replied. "It was Ed Crass."

"Fucking little weasel," Julian cursed. "But why shoot Jellal?"

Eli smirked. It was an ugly look. "Let me tell you exactly what happened. Madam was feeling my absence. After checking all my regular haunts… and a lakebed, I'm sure, she knew just where to look. There are a lot of people that want me as their lapdog, but only a few with enough balls to follow through with it. After that, it was a matter of money exchanging hands. When her lackey heard our conversation… well… She doesn't like being double-crossed," he said blandly. "But she likes me alive. So your buddy Eddy there took out the instigator."

There was only one thing Julian fixated on. "Am I to assume we have a deal then, Mr. Tase? You'll work for me?"

"When I have my sister, and until you fuck it up," Eli responded.

Erza barely heard them. Through the fear, she felt rage. Jellal was hers. Genève was going to pay, and the only currency Erza wanted was blood.

The door opened and Wilber entered, mostly held up by a wide man with dark red hair.

"Mr. York—" Wilber started in a halting voice. "I'm so—so exhausted."

"I know you are, Wilber," Julian agreed. "Unfortunately, you're the only one I have."

"I don't think I can—"

"Do it," Julian said sharply. "When you're through, you can have all the Illusion you like. And Natalie, if she would be so gracious to entertain you." Natalie turned wide eyes on him.

"I can?" Wilber asked.

"Natalie?" Julian handed the response to her.

"If you're okay with it, Julian," Natalie replied finally.

The temptation of the drug was enough, but Natalie was the topping that sealed the deal. Wilber lurched toward Jellal. What scared Erza as he approached wasn't the fact that he was risking his life to save Jellal's—magic drain _could_ kill—but how _little_ she cared if this man died to save the one she loved, or how much Natalie was giving up to do it. She could have refused, after all. Beneath her hands, Jellal's chest was rising slower, his breaths becoming even more truncated. She'd do anything to watch his chest rise evenly. Even deal with Julian. She didn't wonder at what he wanted; knowing him, it was something that she didn't want to give.

Wilber fell beside Erza, dropped down by the red-haired man, and, for the second time in as many days, pushed Erza's hands aside. She allowed it this time after seeing Wilber's magic in action. He tore open Jellal's suit jacket and his wet shirt, then placed his palms against Jellal's chest. Magic flowed out.

Erza worried her lip until it hurt. Sienna came to her side and brushed back her hair in what was supposed to be a comforting manner. She'd wiped the blood from her hands somehow, though Erza was too numb, too worried, to care much about that. Wilber's results were fast in coming, though. Some of Jellal's sallowness started to fade.

"I—" Wilber choked out. "I need something to wipe the blood away. To see what I'm doing." It was harder when he was exhausted.

Natalie appeared with a handkerchief. Erza glanced up and saw that it was Julian's. She had a hard time feeling grateful at the moment. Maybe that would come later. Wilber nodded to the area. Natalie crouched and started to clean it with uneven movements. It was obvious she didn't like the blood. Erza took the cloth from the girl's shaking hands and took over, glad she was steadier.

The space cleaned, she saw the damage. The bullet wound was small and perfectly round, like a penny. From the red depths, a copper cylinder was dragged up through Jellal's body. The bullet. Wilber grabbed it out with fingers of questionable cleanliness, and dropped it right to Noir's floor. Then he went back to it. The skin scabbed over, and even started to heal some. Minutes passed in tense silence.

Wilber started to sweat. "Mr. York… That's—all I can do right now."

"He's still hurt," Erza said before Julian could. "You can do more."

He shook his head. "I need bandages. Sanitize the area." He looked green. "I'll finish later."

"Please—" Erza started. She didn't get to finish her sentence before the magic drain had its way with Wilber. First his eyes rolled into the back of his head. He started to fall forward. Erza reacted automatically, pushing him back the other way. He hit the ground hard enough his head bounced. She knew she'd been too rough, but it saved Jellal from getting thrown up on.

Julian snorted in disgust and nudged the man with the toe of his shiny shoes, pushing him so he was on his side and not on his back, like that was all the courtesy he needed. "You can still say no, Natalie. No one would blame you."

Standing, the girl gripped her elbows and went to him. "You promised, Julian, I won't make you break your word."

He touched her face tenderly and laid a kiss to her forehead, as unaffected as ever.

Another bare-from-the-waist-up dark haired woman entered the room. She didn't flinch when she saw the scene. It was obvious things like this weren't strictly uncommon in Noir.

Noticing her, Julian asked, "What is it, Jana?"

Jana waited until she was at Julian's side, shimmying into where Natalie was, before she stood on tiptoe and whispered her secret into his ear. Julian's scowl got darker by the second.

"I see. Do nothing. I'll take care of it."

"Of course, Mr. York."

"Tell everyone to be ready, though, just in case."

"Yes, Sir." She slunk back the way she'd come.

"What is it?" Natalie asked.

Julian glanced at her but only said, "Natalie, get those bandages Wilber spoke of. You know where they are?"

"Yes, but—"

"Take Sienna and Erza with you," he said. "And don't go anywhere but to the supply room and back here. Understand?"

" _Why_?" Natalie asked.

"Because I said so."

"I'm not leaving Jellal," Erza added.

"Think of this as the first of the 'anything' you'd do for his life, Erza," Julian said curtly.

"The first?" Erza repeated.

"Protecting people I care about from a threat that may or may not exist is less than his life is worth, I hope? There will still be a debt when you're through."

" _What_ threat?"

"Julian," Natalie said. "What's going on? Please, you're scaring me."

"We just have an unplanned visitor," Julian said, softening for Natalie. "It's probably nothing."

"You know that's likely a lie," Eli snorted. Erza had almost forgotten he was there. He just watched and judged.

Julian said, "Roy, put Jellal up on that couch there, then take Eli and get him comfortable in a room, alright?"

Wilber's escort looked at Eli skeptically. "Mein—"

"That was _before_ Evan shot him up with enough Silver to kill a horse. He's too fucking high to be much of a threat right now," Julian barked. "Just don't let your guard down. Get moving, now, or you're through here."

Roy rushed to do as Julian asked, easily lifting Jellal. He was limp, still totally out of it. His colour was still good, though. Once he was settled, Roy went for Eli, grabbing him up by the collar. Eli stumbled and staggered toward the door, as though his legs were two wet noodles.

"Easy with the merchandise," Eli said derisively. "What would the boss do if you fucked up his newest toy?"

The door closed, blocking out Roy's response.

"I fucking hate that man," Julian muttered. To Erza he said, "Will you or won't you join Natalie and Sienna?"

She didn't _want_ to leave Jellal. But she had promised. And, as far as 'anything's' went, this wasn't so bad, right? "Very well." She rose.

Natalie looked like she wanted to linger and ask more questions. Sienna's hand slipped into hers and the girl's eyes softened. "Follow me."

Julian was hot on their heels, except, in Noir's midnight hallways, he went right while Erza, Natalie and Sienna went left.

* * *

"Mon beau garçon. Mon petit menteur." Beautiful boy. Little liar.

Jellal opened heavy eyes and looked at a familiar face. She hadn't changed. Her fingers, red-tipped knives, grazed his mouth. Her voice was saccharine. Strawberries gone to sweet-rot. It stuck to him like honey that had crystallized like amber. Madam's glassy blues peered down at him. She was fury and she was lust. She was beauty and she was horror. She was everything he never needed. Everything he never wanted. And still he scrabbled, desperate to be at her side.

"You say you want to be mine, and yet here you are, belonging wholly to Julian York. Just like I thought." Her accent was just as thick as he remembered. He loved it. The way she rolled her R's, the lilting cadence. Exotic. Madam was exotic in a way he couldn't help but relish. It was poison. His heart beat with the need to be closer to her.

Though moving was painful, Jellal lifted his hand and laid it against her face. Her skin was warm. So real. "I don't want you invading my thoughts anymore."

She smiled, her lips a bright coral. "Is that what you do, Jellal? You spend all of your hours dreaming of all the ways you can have me?"

"I think of all the ways I can kill you." _And all the ways I can't._

"All the ways you can make me yours, you mean. The way I've made you mine." Her fingers swirled down his throat. So, so real. He didn't flinch, telling himself that it was another hallucination. With every one he had, they became realer. "Jellal." She leaned closer. He could smell her breath. Rose petal. She always chewed it. It combatted the acrid smell in the air. "I've missed you so much. Dites que vous êtes le mien. Tell me. Tell me you're mine." Her lips tasted like he remembered. Sweet. They were warm. And her tongue. Skilled as it slid over his lips.

He returned the kiss because when Madam Genève took, you gave and that was all.

"Forget Julian York," she whispered against his mouth. "Some man you don't even know. Be mine again. Truly mine. No more lies. No more games. You'll sit at my side and be only for me. I won't give you to men or women that won't appreciate you any longer."

"That's hardly friendly, Genève. I thought you were here to enjoy an evening, not wander through my hotel unescorted in an attempt to steal my employees." Julian's voice smacked Jellal like a whip. So real. His heart started beating faster. So fast, it felt like it would explode. He couldn't look away from her to find Julian. She had all of his attention; always.

"In truth, mon amour, I'm actually here looking for Eli." Madam Genève spoke to Julian but kept her eyes trained on Jellal. She dropped a small kiss to the corner of his mouth, then nipped. She was enjoying herself, unafraid of the line she toed.

"I don't know why you'd be here looking for Eli," Julian said smoothly. "I don't typically allow your people to walk Gomorrah, let alone Noir."

"And yet, here is Jellal." She fingered the tattoo beneath his eye. "Marked as mine, and lying wounded in your house. What other secrets does this trashy little casino hold?"

 _Wounded. The pianist._ It was then Jellal realized that this wasn't anything less than reality. She was here, _in the flesh._ The realization left him paralyzed.

Julian did a good job of not bristling at the insult. "When he tried to return home, you turned him away, so I was under the impression that Jellal was a free man."

Her smile was slow. Jellal still couldn't look away from it. Couldn't _move._ "If he was so free, would he wear this chain so willingly?" She tapped his cheek.

"We all bear our scars differently." Julian came to Madam's side and touched her back between her shoulder blades. "Now. It's impolite to arrive under the banner of pleasure then wander my halls without my permission, propositioning my employees to do business. Your devil isn't here, so I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

She finally blinked, her long, dark lashes looking as black as ink against her smooth skin. She started to straighten from her position leaning into him. The loss of her body heat was startling. Startling enough that Jellal discovered that he _could_ move. It was painful, his shoulder twanging all the way, but he reached and reached before this opportunity could be missed. Madam's throat was smooth and delicate beneath his hand, choked with pearl and black diamond necklaces, slicked with scented oils and perfume. Feeling sick and vicious, Jellal squeezed. Madam's cornflower and gold eyes went wide. She gripped his wrist with her delicate, skilled fingers, trying to force him to release her. He only bore down harder, sitting up, though it pained him, and standing, though his head spun viciously.

He was taller than her now, it helped him believe that time had changed him. Made him stronger. Strong enough to do this. She gasped and dug her fingernails into his skin, scratching when he didn't let go. Feeling like the plug of inaction was finally pulled, Jellal attempted to grab her throat with the other hand as well, to make the task easier, but his arm was too sore to move. Sweat pricked at his brow.

"Jellal." Julian grabbed Jellal's forearm below Madam Genève's spider-like hand. His voice was bored sounding. "Release her."

Jellal couldn't imagine doing that. His tendons strained with the force he exerted. "I'm not yours." It was liberating saying it while looking into her eyes. Fear lived there. For so long he'd dreamed of seeing it. The monster in his heart fed off the woman's discord. Her pain. He felt frenzied watching her face go red.

"Jellal." There was a little more urgency to Julian's voice. He'd had his fun, and now it was time to obey, that tone said. "Release her, now."

He didn't. Not until a hot wash of blood exploded from his nose. His ears roared. His vision turned red. Unable to stand, he fell for what seemed like a long way. The floor was hard and unforgiving. Freed, Madam Genève coughed and coughed, gasping in one harried breath after another.

Dryly, Julian said, "It seems to me that Jellal isn't so interested in anything you have to offer, Genève. I think it would be wise for you to leave Noir now."

The blood stopped coming. Jellal fought to blink his eyes clear, furious. Eager to see her. It was only a curtain of red.

When she could, Madam spat, "How could you, Julian? This was supposed to be neutral territory, yet you attack me." Her voice was hoarse.

"I did no such thing," he replied. "I told you, as I tell everyone, not to wander from the casino or the hotel. It's not my fault you came into _my personal_ lounge and stumbled across a stray dog _you_ abused. It chose to bite. I won't take responsibility for that."

Jellal strummed up an image of her furious face. It was easy; he saw it many times when he was a boy and disobeyed.

In a shaking voice, Madam said, "When the others hear of this, no one will do business with you. Noir will be ruined. Gomorrah will follow."

Some of the blood cleared. Jellal could make out Noir's calligraphy ceiling. Heart palpitating viciously, he pushed himself into a sitting position, using his good hand. Even that movement made him feel ill, but he needed to see her. He needed to finish what he started before he was no longer brave enough to do it. His body was sick of obeying him. Muscles quaking, vision blurring, head cracking in two.

Julian glanced at Jellal as he said, "It's never wise to prod a lion in its den. Leave, Genève, before all civility falls to shambles and you become an example of what happens to those that test me."

Through bleary eyes, Jellal watched Madam Genève gather her furs around her body, ample bosom pushed high. Somehow, she still managed to look dignified. "I know you lie. I'm going to find Eli, Julian, and take him back. I'm also going to have Jellal, whether he likes it or not. Then I'm going to make your skin the Vault's welcome mat, so everyone knows which of us was the lion and which was the lamb."

Julian reached for her. To her credit, she didn't flinch as he caressed her face, a smile on his mouth. "No one ever talks so sweetly to me." He spoke to the room. "Escort Madam Genève out of Noir, Roy, and let everyone know that her privilege has been revoked. She's to be shot on sight if she returns without my permission."

Madam Genève didn't falter. Julian and his threats didn't scare her. "Here I thought you were worried about your reputation."

"No one will fault me after I've given you fair warning," Julian replied.

Jellal was finally able to see clearly. A tall and thick man with cherry red hair came into the room and reached for Madam's wrist. She jerked out of his reach.

"I know my way."

Jellal turned his head so he was looking at her properly and relished the sight—was even a little bit glad he didn't get to kill her. If he had, he wouldn't have been able to see the ultimate fury and humiliation on her face, despite her blasé attitude, or his handprint blackening her throat. She turned, blocking the sight. The door snapped closed behind her furs. Roy rushed to follow, leaving Jellal and Julian behind.

"You're right fucking dumb, aren't you?" Julian demanded as soon as they were alone.

"Me?" If Jellal could stand, he would.

" _Yes,_ you. You can't just go trying to kill people whenever you want."

He looked at Julian in disbelief. "You're _paying me_ —"

"To be _discrete_ ,' Julian hissed. "And honestly, you're the worst assassin I've ever hired. _I_ could have killed her myself more quietly than you."

"She was right there—what was I supposed to do?" He struggled again to rise. Julian grabbed him by the collar of his open shirt and yanked him up enough that he could push him back onto the couch he'd been laying on. The leather squeaked and groaned. Jellal's skin protested the abuse, hot and tight. "Ugh. What the fuck?" He picked up his shirt and peaked beneath the stained red folds. His shoulder had a neat hole in it. It looked like it'd been healing for days, the skin scabbed and pink around the edges of the wound. It still hurt like a sonofabitch.

"You were shot," Julian said. "By one of my own people, no less. Eli claims that Genève paid them to spy. When they discovered that he was considering doing business with me, they decided to shoot." He tugged a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Jellal. "Clean up."

Jellal took the cloth and started moping the blood from his face. As he worked, he remembered the pianist rising. The gun going off. And his spell, stealing their life away so… _effortlessly_. Magic made killing easy. Yet it should never be. He hated himself in that moment. For using Altairis so thoughtlessly. For hating it as much as he loved it. He never felt better or worse than when that spell was in his hands. He tried to outpace his dark thoughts. "They shot me, not Eli."

"You, the instigator," Julian replied. "It appears Genève is reluctant to give up her devil and afraid you have something to offer."

There was a pit in Jellal's stomach he desperately wanted to pretend didn't exist. At the bottom of it lay the question, _'Why did she not love me enough to keep me alive?'_ That thought belonged to a very different Jellal, though, a weaker one, one that loved the abuse. The one that also said, _'If she didn't want me, why did she say she was going to make me hers, then?'_ He quashed _that_ Jellal like a bug, thinking instead of Erza, the only woman he wanted to have him wholly. He threw the saturated handkerchief to the coffee table. It looked just in place in Julian's dark lounge. Noir was a place that wasn't unused to blood.

Julian said, "Forget about that. They're dead, and the casino has been swept for anyone else that isn't supposed to be here. More importantly, there are _rules_ here in Noir. I've told everyone that this is neutral ground. If they want to come here and blow their fortunes—and Genève has _plenty_ enough of that to go through—they are welcomed to, without fear of being attacked."

"Tell that to Eris and Adisa," Jellal snapped.

Julian shook his head. "You really are an idiot. No one knew they were here, so it was fair game. Genève would have made it very public that she was coming here. She was waiting for something like this to happen." He thrust his fingers through his hair. "That bitch. She's trying to ruin me every way she can."

"If you would have just let me kill her—"

"Then no one else would ever come here, Jellal, and I refuse to have that." He thrust his fingers through his salt and pepper hair again. "Fuck." He started to pace. "You're going to fix this. Stop being a fuckup and get your shit together. Kill that bitch, make it seem like I wasn't the one that ordered it done." There was a threat lingering at the end of his sentence that Julian didn't bother to fill in.

Jellal, though ashamed, struggled to maintain some dignity. "This fuckup has done plenty for you that you haven't been able to do on your own."

"Yeah?" Julian asked, a dangerous lilt to his voice. "And just what the fuck is that?"

"I've taken out the majority of her guard. I know where to cut to destroy the last of her stronghold." He had to not think of Haya as a person; killing her would be easier. "I've made her fear you and your strength. Why else would she be here, searching for Eli and asking me to be loyal to her?"

Some of Julian's rage fell away.

"And," Jellal finished, "I've got Madam's _Iblis_ on your side."

He stopped pacing, crossing his arms instead. "You think Eli's not going to fuck with us?"

"I know how to get his sister," Jellal said. He just needed a woman to get in and do the deed for him, if Eli was truthful about Madam and how she preferred to make Celia suffer. "Once I have her, he won't dare double-cross us, as long as you honour your deal with him. Just know, if you're thinking Madam's same tactics will work for you, Eli's a man pushed to the very edge. He'll try anything. Get freedom any way he knows how. If that means Celia dies to be free, I believe he'll do it, and follow her shortly after."

"Whatever happened to the days where you just paid a man more than your competitor?" Julian wondered. "Whatever. It doesn't matter. I'm not interested in the girl. If Eli wants her protection in exchange for his services, I'll offer it. As long as he doesn't fuck around."

"I don't think he's going to fuck around with this," Jellal said. "Natalie seemed to convince him you're worth dealing with."

Julian's expression got dark. "She shouldn't be near him."

 _And that's what I told her._ He kept the words to himself, remembering the way Eli looked at the girl. "I think she's safe. Eli seemed… enamored."

It didn't ease Julian's scowl. "And that is a problem. Deals have been broken for less. People get fucking stupid when they think they're in love."

Confused, Jellal asked, "I know you sell her to others and she has many admirers. How is this a deal breaker? It should be in your favour."

Julian explained, "A lot of men enjoy Natalie. They fuck her and tell her she's beautiful, Jellal, and she is, so why shouldn't she receive the praise? But when they start sending her love letters and gifts, lingering in an attempt to escort her places and take her from my side, something has to be done. Natalie is a girl I very much want beside me."

Jellal got the impression that it wasn't _just_ for her beauty. _Then why?_ He tucked the question away, figuring he'd get a more truthful answer out of Natalie. Julian was fond of his secrets. "Sometimes you have to make concessions. If it works for you, then I say let him dream. She's yours, anyway. Even if she lets other men think she's not."

Julian considered his words, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. "How is your shoulder?"

Jellal floundered with the change of subject and ended up being too truthful. "Sore."

Julian nodded. "The girls have gone to get Wilber some bandages. He was able to get the bullet out, stop the bleeding and heal the broken skin, but… eh." He nodded to a slumped figure Jellal hadn't noticed. Wilber was a mess, bony limbs, messy and greasy hair, sallow skin. His shirt was damp. Jellal identified the acrid smell in the air: vomit.

"What's wrong with him?"

"Overexertion, withdrawal. Pick your poison. He'll be good to work on you again in a few hours."

"I'm fine now," Jellal lied.

Julian shook his head. "Oh, no. I promised Erza you'd be healed, and I'll make damn sure you're in perfect condition." There was a gleam to Julian's eye that Jellal immediately hated.

"Why would you make her that promise?"

"Because she's a beautiful girl." Julian replied.

"That's all?"

He bared his teeth. "Should there be another reason?"

With men like Julian, there always was.

The door opened and the object of their conversation strolled through, Sienna and Natalie flanking her. She was barefooted and messy haired. Her eyes were as wide as planets. Jellal took in every single inch of her, unable to look away. She held him tighter than even Madam Genève. As soon as she saw him, she lengthened her steps, bringing her to his side in seconds.

She said not a word as she folded herself practically into his lap and crushed him in a hug tight enough that his shoulder ached. He saw stars; his forehead dampened with sweat again.

"Erza—"

"I believe you're hurting him and undoing all the work you begged poor Wilber to do." Julian touched her shoulder.

Erza moderately eased her grip. She only had eyes for Jellal. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," Jellal lied.

"I'll tell you what, Jellal, Erza, I'll give you a room in Noir for the rest of the night," Julian offered. "On the house, even. When Wilber wakes, I'll have him come to you and finish his work. Erm… after he gets cleaned up, of course. Once you're feeling well enough, Jellal, I want you to put an end to Madam Genève." His generous tone fell away. "No. More. Fuckups. Or I'll find someone else more capable."

Jellal had never hated anyone more in that moment, but their goals aligned, the money was good, Julian's healer was going to fix his goddamn shoulder. Who gave a fuck what Julian thought of him? His only regret was that Erza was there to see his demoralization. The look she wore was murderous.

"Maybe you should make sure that everyone you hire isn't a traitor," Erza spat. "This is your short-coming, not Jellal's."

Julian's eyes flashed, but he did concede. "In this case, maybe you're right. I'm going to have to be more careful, I think." To Natalie he said, "Get them a room and help him get patched up."

"Noir is safe now?" Natalie asked. Between her hands she held an overstuffed first aid kit. Her black painted nails dug into the white fabric.

"There isn't a safer place," Julian replied.

Jellal wondered if Julian actually believed that, because he sure didn't. As long as money was involved and Julian held two of the people Madam wanted most in that moment, he didn't think anywhere was truly safe from the quiet power struggle that was about to explode.

"Come on." Erza rose and laced her fingers through Jellal's. Sienna came to his other side, supporting him from there. Together, they followed Natalie into Noir's belly.

* * *

A/N:

SleeplessComplication: It's where my one-shots are going to be posted from now on. Keep your eye out for the pseudonym, or follow it or whatever. You know. Keep it secret. Keep it safe.


	24. Chapter 24

It was Gomorrah inverted. Where it was white, Noir was dark. The floor, the ceiling. The walls. The furniture—lined with gold to make it all stand out. Bad business to have guests tripping, after all. Even the water fell out of its fountains looking like midnight's tears.

Erza's bare feet padded along the marble floor, smacking softly. Ahead, Natalie walked with purpose, heels rapping. It was clear to Jellal that she was on edge, checking the corridors for any signs of trouble. The hotel was empty. A most beautifully decorated ghost town. The whole place gave him the creeps. Hotels were never meant to be so quiet. Especially ones with—apparently—bustling casinos attached to them.

"I wonder who Mr. York was all twitchy about," Sienna said.

Jellal drew breath to answer. His chest was tight. "Madam Genève."

Erza drew up short. "What?" That one word held such potential for violence. Jellal would have been amazed, if he wasn't so dazed.

"She arrived under the guise of going to the casino, but she was looking for Eli." _And me._ He could still feel her mouth, hear her words. _Be mine again._

Erza slipped from beneath his arm. In her absence, Jellal teetered, off balance and exhausted. Sienna tightened her grip, struggling to hold him up.

"Where can I find her?" Erza demanded. There was only one thing on her mind. That determined, vicious look was in her eye, the look she wore when she fought him at the Tower of Heaven. The look she donned before she sliced down everyone that dared oppose her.

Natalie responded without slowing her pace. "She's gone, Erza."

"How do you know?" They saw no one while they looked for medical supplies.

"Because I know Julian. He never would have allowed her to remain," Natalie said. "The cockroach has slunk back to her dank hole until another night."

"I wanted to kill her," Jellal said almost absently. He clenched his good hand. If he tried very hard, he could still remember the slick feeling of her soft throat between his fingers. If he closed his eyes, he could see her eyes go wide. Those beautiful blues filling with panic as she realized that while he loved her, he was capable of smothering that with hate. _I can do it. I can kill her._ Somehow, knowing that he could was almost just as good as _doing_. It made him feel giddy. He didn't have to long after the boy that was brave enough to eat Silver Dragon and end it all. He was a step above that, able to grab Madam by her necklace-lined throat and choke the very breath from her lungs. The moment he'd been dreaming of since his escape, the instant he'd been holding his breath for, checking time after time to see if she'd gotten her feet back beneath her again, was here. And he _could_ stomach it.

Erza's voice brought him back. "Why didn't you?"

He searched her eyes, looking for the woman that was disgusted by his choice to kill. She was absent. Erza had tucked her away in a small, rational box and thrown away the key. She hated Madam Genève as much as he did now, it would seem. Enough to cast her morals aside and gift upon Innisfil's most infamous Mistress the judgement she deserved.

Jellal didn't know if he was pleased or not. If Erza donned her killer's mask, who would be left to keep his in check?

 _Who says you have to_?

Maybe…

He and Erza together…

"Jellal?" Erza's mouth moved around his name. He dragged his eyes from it, shaking the darkness from his head.

"Noir is supposed to be a safe place for anyone on Julian's guest list." Natalie stopped in front of a room, number 13 the gold numbers on the black barrier read. "Madam Genève is part of that."

"Was," Jellal offered. His throat felt raw as he spoke. "He ordered her shot if she ever returned."

"Why would he put her on the list? I thought they hated each other?" Erza asked. She came back beneath his arm, taking some of the burden from Sienna.

"As a show of good faith," Natalie clarified. She pushed open the door. With the movement, overhead pot lights came on, revealing a room as large and as decorated as Jellal's in Gomorrah. It was more of a condo, really, with its lengthy halls and fireplace and hot tub. A huge king sized bed made with gold and black sheets took up a good portion of the space in front of a large window. Jellal didn't know what he expected when he looked beyond the glass, but it wasn't blackness. Depthless, Endless. Starless space.

Natalie said, "All of the heads of the cartels in Innisfil have a place in Noir." She closed the door behind them. "What do you think of your room?"

"It's beautiful," Sienna said, letting Jellal go in favour of exploring.

Jellal bit the inside of his cheek and weathered the pain of coming away from Erza's hold. Free, he approached the window, trying to see _something_ beyond. There was just… nothing. "What is this?"

"That's the Void," Natalie said. "It's nothing. A space between everything you've ever known."

It was one thing to have Julian tell him where Noir existed, and another entirely to see it for himself. He'd never been in the presence of such… absence.

Natalie's hand landed lightly between his shoulder blades. "Sit."

He did as he was told, grateful to drop to the bed. She placed the first aid kit beside him and started relieving him of his tie, shirt and jacket. She moved quickly, stopping only when Erza, dissatisfied to let her do the work, came on to the bed behind Jellal and helped to ease the fabrics from his body.

"Does it hurt?" Erza asked.

At the moment? All he could think of was her knees pressing into his back. Her body close to his.

"Here." Natalie reached between her breasts and took out a small plastic bag. Inside were silvered leaves. They looked to be both boiled, then dried. Distilled. And changed. If the colour wasn't telling enough, Jellal knew too well the look of the leaf's toothy margin. His body ached for the feeling the leaves could leave behind.

She brought it up to his lips. "Just a taste. It'll help with the pain."

Jellal did nothing, not bring her hand in closer, not tell her to go away, just stared. Natalie crushed the leaf, getting some of the oil on her fingers, then brought them to his lips. Erza looked on, torn, not wanting him to be in pain, but unsure of what that look on his face meant. She allowed it to continue because he opened his mouth and let her rub the oil on his tongue.

It wasn't much, but it was enough to make the ache in his chest—both the real and the imaginary—subside. Jellal breathed a little easier.

"There. You don't look quite so white now," Natalie cooed.

Except, when it wore out of his system completely, he'd be back to wanting more. Jellal said nothing and let her touch his shoulder. It was still stained with blood and tender, despite the small dose of Silver.

Natalie said, "I didn't realize how much you bled. You should have a shower to get this cleaned off. When you're done, I'll wrap it up."

"I can do it," Erza said. "You can leave that stuff there."

"Not a chance. Julian asked me to," Natalie said with a smile. "I wouldn't want to disappoint him."

Sienna reappeared and spoke, saving Erza from finding an appropriate response. "I found the washroom. It's over here."

Erza stood, sliding around so she could take up Natalie's position, and took Jellal by his good hand, guiding him upright again.

Jellal leaned on her heavily, both slightly stoned and shamelessly soaking up her attention. It was nice being doted on by her, her touch grounding, growing more and more familiar with every day that passed. He allowed her to turn him down one of the room's shadowed hallways. Together, they followed Sienna into a huge bathroom with a giant standing shower and a black claw-foot tub with thin gold calligraphy stenciling its sides. There was a wrought iron mirror that started over the sink and extended along the wall. A stand full of dark towels occupied the space between the bathtub and the shower.

Sienna smiled widely. "I love Noir."

Erza gave her a deadpan look. "We've been here for an hour, yet a man is dead." Jellal flinched. "Eli was brought in beaten. And a woman that abuses children and adults alike—using them for everything they could possibly offer and more just because she can make a profit off them—has wandered its halls, looking to hurt someone I care about." With every word, her fingers got tighter on Jellal's, until he was thinking of a way to cleverly wriggle from her grasp without being too obvious.

She eased her hold before it got really painful, thankfully.

Sienna's shoulders fell. "I know. It was horrible, that man dying, and Jellal getting shot, and Wilber. But… it's not the fault of the hotel."

Just its owner. _Whom I now owe a debt to._ Yet Erza wouldn't change it, not if it meant that Jellal was alright. "Everything worked out," Erza said finally. And it _was_ a nice room, she had to admit.

Sienna was obviously relieved. She went to the shower and opened the frosted glass door, then fiddled with the knobs, adjusting the water. "Perfect." It was already steaming.

Figuring neither she nor Jellal had much to hide, Erza started on the rest of Jellal's clothes, pulling at his belt, then fussing with the button and the zipper on his slacks. He stood and let her work, catching Sienna's wandering eye. He read her wide grin well enough and didn't know how to respond to it, what it meant when Erza let his pants fall, then his shorts, and worked on getting her own dress undone, too.

Body heat at her back made Erza pause her efforts to reach the zipper.

"I helped you get into it, it's only fair that I help you get out, too," Sienna said in a voice so sweet it made Erza's teeth ache. "Don't you think?"

Erza chewed the inside of her cheek, heart pounding, the sound of the shower roaring in her ears. She didn't stop Sienna. With every inch the zipper went down, low in her belly twanged. Sienna worked slowly, getting the dress down over Erza's breasts, her stomach, the swell of her behind. She followed the descent of the material, kneeling. It puddled against the floor, chain and black lace.

Teeth sank into Erza's behind, startling her. The bite ended in a kiss. Erza dared to lift her gaze to Jellal's. He had that same look about him as he did earlier, slightly dazed, doped up, mostly hot. Between his legs was pressing into her hard. If only he wasn't still covered in blood.

Sienna stood and kissed Erza's shoulder, then, daringly, grabbed her breasts. "You want to stay out here with me and play while Jellal gets into the shower?"

Erza's ears roared more. "Natalie—"

Sienna _hmmed_ lowly. "Trust me. She won't mind."

Erza scrambled. "Jellal—"

"Needs help?" Sienna offered, giving her a way out.

Erza took it, not only to give herself time to process, but because it was true. "Yes."

"Get into the shower then." Sienna flicked her tongue over Erza's ear, making her shiver, then squeezed her breasts again. And lower, grabbing Jellal, brushing over Erza's center while she was at it. Erza didn't mean to sigh, but did anyway. Then Sienna was gone, slipping out into the main room again, gently closing the door in her wake.

Erza let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, her body buzzing. Jellal used his good hand to find the tips of her hair, pulling it to force her to look at him. The electricity moving through her body only intensified. He kissed her slowly, briefly but thoroughly, using his tongue to frazzle her even further. His mouth still tasted like Silver oil. He released her in what Erza thought was an abrupt manner, and made his way to the shower. She shook herself and followed, closing the door behind them.

The water was blisteringly hot. Neither bothered to adjust it, though, Jellal striving to scrub off the lingering sensation of Madam's touch, Erza too absorbed in her own thoughts. She grabbed a bar of citric scented soap and came in close to him again, carefully washing the skin on his shoulder. The water took away the blood quickly, turning pink for only a moment before it ran clear again.

"Are you alright, Jellal?" Erza asked. Speaking felt like shattering some kind of spell, but she needed to know. The skin beneath her hands was pink and mostly new, the hole where the bullet went in smaller now. Wilber's scab was holding.

He gripped her wrist, halting her movements. "I'm fine." Always fine. He'd slogged through worse before and probably would again. Only, when he tried to think of what, his mind was frighteningly blank. _It's the drugs_ , _not the truth_. "I'm more curious as to how you're feeling."

"Me?" she repeated. "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

He dropped her wrist so he could push her half-wet hair back from her face. "Sienna's advances." His voice was rough and low.

He was still hard pressing against her, ready. Shivering again, she allowed herself to touch him, feeling his body beneath her hands, the minute way his muscles twitched in response.

Jellal made himself focus instead of getting lost in sensory touches. "You can tell her to stop. She will. She continues because she thinks you like it." He thought he still knew his childhood friend. She would respect any line Erza drew. "All you have to do is say the word, Erza."

Erza's cheeks felt hot. She blamed it on the shower, even though she knew the truth in her heart. Trying to sound sure, she said, "What if I do like it?" It didn't come out at all how she wanted it to. Insecure, uncertain. That's not how she wanted to live her life.

"You do?"

She expected there to be some outrage in his voice, but there was only a quality she fumbled to put a name to. "I—I don't know. Do you?"

He bent and kissed her jaw. "There is a certain draw watching her enjoy you like I do." Not only that, but to seeing Erza off-balance, hot and unsure of how to handle it. Very rarely did he get to see her as such. It was a guilty pleasure if he'd ever had one. He licked up her throat and took her earring into his mouth, nibbling until she leaned into him. Jellal eased back, allowing the shower wall to hold his weight, more lightheaded than he would have liked. "I would never ask you to do anything you're uncomfortable with."

"I would never do anything I was uncomfortable with," she said. _That_ at least was delivered with certainty.

"How silly of me to think that the great Titania would crumble to something like peer pressure," he teased, thankful for the distraction she was offering from the whirling room.

Erza didn't scold him for calling her that hated nickname. It somehow sounded different coming off his tongue, anyway, not worshipfully as it did her fans, but with a slight hint of mocking: Jellal knew who she was beneath all of her armours and all of the headlines bolstering her strength. She still found her origins as the child slave in the Tower of Heaven, the one without a name and without a friend until this boy came along and gave her both. She kissed him until she was dizzy and he was grabbing her behind with the hand he couldn't lift above his ribs, and palming her breast with the other.

Panting, she pulled away from his mouth. "You're supposed to be washing."

"I thought _you_ were supposed to be washing _me_?" he protested.

Erza realized that not only was he right, she still gripped the soap. She brushed his hands aside with some effort and helped him finish, planning out all of the things she was going to do to him when she was through. She let her hands linger between his legs, stroking teasingly when he started to soften. He was back to being rigid in no time.

"You're cruel," Jellal told her. Not that he didn't sort of like her that way.

Erza smiled.

The soap washed away. The shower turned off. Erza grabbed a towel for Jellal, helping him dry his back and his chest, though he wrapped it around his waist himself, a look of grim determination on his face. Maybe he was hurt, but he wanted to act like he wasn't. It was a sentiment Erza appreciated. She didn't coddle him more than he wanted.

She dried her own body quickly, wrapped herself in her own towel, then took him by the hand and led him out into the room.

It took her a second to make sense of the clothes strewn across the floor, and another still to find their owners. Natalie stood with her back against the window while Sienna knelt on the floor between her legs, tongue lapping skillfully. Both were completely nude. Natalie's hands were through Sienna's hair, keeping her where she was, while Sienna held the other girl's leg lifted, spreading her wide. Natalie breathed through her teeth in short puffs, each becoming louder, her moans taking shape. She took one hand out of Sienna's hair so she could grab and pinch her breasts. Her eyes opened and caught Erza's.

Erza realized that she was staring. She thought to look away but couldn't, not even when Jellal grabbed her hand and led her to the bed. Not even when he loosened his towel and sat down on the silent mattress. Not when he tugged her own towel away and guided her on to his lap so her back was facing his chest. His fingers went between her legs.

 _Gods._

The girls against the wall moaned louder. Sienna inserted her fingers into Natalie's body.

Shaking with nerves, Erza only looked away to adjust, bringing her legs up so she was kneeling instead of sitting on Jellal's lap. He pressed into her backside hard enough to hurt them both. She lifted up and took him inside of her, the movement effortless. She didn't start moving her hips, though, satisfied to feel him fill her up, to enjoy his fingers slip over her center, between her folds to the swollen nub between her legs. His touch was fire, as was Natalie's eyes. Maybe Erza should have, but she didn't worry if Jellal was hurting, figuring he'd adjust if he were.

Sienna brought the girl to a screaming orgasm. Every one of Erza's nerve endings jumped. She felt herself get wetter, and Jellal swell inside her body. She rocked her hips once, pleased with the moan he made.

Sienna loosened her hold when Natalie finished and leaned away. Natalie stood there for a beat, panting and enjoying, then pulled the girl up by the hair and said, "Come here."

Erza's stomach tied itself in knots as the two approached and stopped before her and Jellal. She wasn't sure what to expect. ' _Stop_ ,' was on her tongue. She withheld it, curiosity winning over nervousness. Natalie got down to the ground, laying flat on her back between Jellal's feet. Sienna intuited what she wanted and knelt, positioning herself perfectly for Natalie's tongue. It also meant that she and Erza were only feet apart. The brunette started her ministrations immediately.

Erza looked down Sienna's body, watching Natalie work. As she studied them, she started moving her hips for real, feeling every inch of Jellal inside of her. His fingers moved faster. The pressure rose in Erza's body with very little effort. Her moans became loud. Sienna reached for her, cupping the back of her neck and forcing her to bend down for a kiss. Warm, wet. Erza came with their mouths locked together.

Jellal started arching into Erza when she slowed, so she picked up the pace, fighting for coordination in all that sensation in an effort to keep the strain on his body to a minimum. Another orgasm took her, fast and hard. She shuddered all the way down to her toes. Jellal throbbed inside of her, finally pushed into a climax of his own. Sienna followed closely behind.

Sienna was the first to move, easing off Natalie and kneeling beside her. Erza was next, grabbing up the bedsheets and pulling them up around her chest like she had something to hide.

On the ground, Natalie's cheeks were high with colour. She found Jellal's eyes, a grin on her red mouth.

Jellal interjected before she could ask her question. "I still wouldn't be foolish enough to touch Julian's favorite girl."

She pouted. "Even if he said it was fine?"

"He's not here to say so, is he?" Jellal volleyed back.

"I don't think he's as much fun as you say he is, Sienna," Natalie said, as unused as Julian was to not getting her way.

"I'm just not a fool," Jellal said. Most days. Unless he was going up against the woman that had owned him for not even a quarter of his life. Then he felt dumber than a stump.

Natalie raised a brow. "Maybe you're not. I think Julian will be happy that you're not so eager to spit in the face of his hospitality."

Even stoned and out of touch, Jellal read through what she was saying. "Does he use you to feel out everyone that comes through Noir?"

"Only a foolish man doesn't use the tools at his disposal," she replied.

"You're a woman, not a tool."

"I can be both," she said. "As long as it's not at the same time and he remembers which one warms his bed at night." She rose and went for her dress. The light gathered her curves. Sienna, though beautiful, just didn't shine as bright. Natalie was as sly as a fox, Jellal thought. He didn't know who was using who between she and Julian.

"Why does he keep you at his side?"

She bent at the waist to pick up her dress, showing off everything. Her hair fell like a dark curtain, curls bouncing as she looked back at him, a sly smile on her mouth. "Because I'm beautiful."

"That's not all. There are lots of beautiful women in the world. Why you?"

"I'm hurt," Natalie said. She stood and slowly began dressing, keeping her back to him as she pulled her slinky dress over her head.

"No you're not," Jellal replied. He weathered a melting glare Sienna offered him.

"Because Julian loves me?" Natalie suggested.

"Maybe," Jellal said. "But he's practical. He doesn't want to give you up for anything. Why?"

She tugged her dress down around her hips and turned, coming back for him, closing the distance with long steps. She got close, closer than Jellal would have let her if he didn't think she was on the precipice of giving him an answer. She touched his shoulder. He felt cold magic leak out of her fingers and into his body, reaching deep, deep within. It grabbed hold of his magic. Confused, he pressed his hand against her chest in an attempt to push her back. He stopped, though, feeling his magic swell, become stronger than it ever was before, even with Silver eating it away. His body buzzed loudly, the magic screaming in his ears. The air got heavy, the room got dark as magic pulsed out of Jellal's body without his permission, out of control.

"What—" Erza stood, the blanket falling away. A sword came to her hand. She didn't get a chance to act. The magic faded, Jellal's skin lost that dark glow, the room lightened once more. On the floor, Sienna wrapped her arms around her body, looking at Jellal like he was something much less than her childhood friend.

Natalie also looked startled, though not nearly as shaken. "You didn't tell Julian you were such a powerful mage."

"And you didn't tell me you amplified magic," Jellal said when he could. "It's okay, Erza." He reached for her, getting only her leg. She stepped into him. Her sword didn't disappear.

"Well." Natalie's smile was half-assed. "Guess we're a little closer now. That little secret should probably stay in this room. Julian gets… annoyed when I let people see our trump card."

Jellal released Erza so he could catch Natalie's hand before she could get too far. "Now I know why Julian keeps you around. Why do you stay?"

"Maybe I'm in love."

That time he believed her.

"Come on, Sienna. Let's go see if Julian will take care of us instead." Natalie pulled out of Jellal's grasp and helped Sienna to her feet.

The redhead dressed quickly, pulling her wedges on last. She looked fleetingly at Jellal and Erza. She seemed scared. _Of you_ , Jellal knew. Because Natalie had only amplified what he was, not altered it.

"Goodbye, Jellal, Erza." The door closed behind the two.

Erza finally released her magic and dropped to the bed. Her muscles were tight.

"You didn't have to pull your sword on Natalie," Jellal dared.

Erza gave him a scathing look. "Can you blame me after everything that's gone on tonight?"

No, he couldn't, but he couldn't help but feel that everything that just transpired was going to end up in Julian's ear. He wasn't sure how it could be used to Julian's advantage, but he was sure that if it were a possibility, it would be. "She's elbow deep with Julian York."

"She's in love," Erza said. "She'd do anything for him." She looked like she wanted to add something else on the matter but didn't.

"Magical amplification would be a very useful skill."

And a terrifying one. Erza didn't like the way Jellal looked, a slave to his magic. "She didn't fix your wound."

Yeah. So much for staying because Julian told her to.

Erza stood and grabbed the first aid kit, doing what Natalie hadn't. She was gentler than she would have been normally, well aware of the way his brows pinched together and his mouth flattened despite the drugs. "Eli agreed to help?"

"For a price," Jellal responded.

"The return of his sister."

Jellal met Erza's eyes. "Yes. She's being held as collateral, and used to punish Eli when he doesn't do as Madam wants."

Erza's heart hurt. "Can she be saved?"

"There's always a way. I just have to figure out how." He didn't relish sending Erza in for her. He refrained from suggesting it until all options were exhausted. The next words he spoke he thought on carefully. "Eli thinks to truly gain the upper hand, I have to kill Haya, Madam's air user."

Erza looked up. "But…?"

He admitted, "Taking her life gives me no pleasure."

"Taking any life shouldn't give you pleasure," Erza said gently.

It was a simple thing that Jellal felt he should agree with, and _did_ because it was the acceptable thing to do. Even if it wasn't strictly the truth.

Erza finished with his bandage. "Tomorrow, Wilber will heal you properly. Then we can tackle this problem. _Together._ "

Always together.

"Yes."

"Something's still bothering you," Erza said.

She read him well. Jellal tried to put name to it. Finally, he said, "I worry Sienna is going to get dragged under in a place like this. Even being in good with Julian's concubine." Or maybe especially.

Erza didn't know what to say. "She seems like she's smart enough, going where both the money and the safety is good."

Yes. He had to believe that she was a survivor, as clever as any that walked from Madam's Vault and found a way to live afterward.

Erza dropped the first aid supplies unceremoniously to the floor then climbed into bed. Jellal watched her get comfortable, spread her damp hair out like a scarlet fan over the onyx coloured pillow cases. When she was settled, he stood and clicked off the bedside lamp. All of the other lights followed, not simultaneously, but one after the other until the last, the one over the door, bowed to sleep. In the blackness, Jellal joined Erza. She waited until he was laying down before she shuffled over and rested her head on his good shoulder.

"Is this okay?"

He kissed her forehead, mostly missing in the dark and getting one of her thin eyebrows instead. "It's fine."

She snaked her arm around his chest. "Stop getting hurt."

He made no promises, guilty of tripping and falling more than once on this job. Julian's words ran through his head. _Stop fucking up._

 _Next time. Next time will be better._

The audio memory of Madam Genève's choking followed him into a sleep that was less than peaceful but exhilarating and satisfying.

* * *

There was no knock to rouse Erza and Jellal, only the door opening and the lights turning on.

Wilber entered, escorted by Julian. The thin man looked not better _exactly_ , but cleaned up. His hair wasn't so greasy. He wasn't covered in vomit. He wasn't shaking like a leaf. He'd had a fix, Jellal assumed, and wished he could have another of his own. He pushed down the feeling viciously and propped himself up on his good elbow. It hurt like a sonofabitch. The pain was louder than the craving.

"Evening." Julian was dressed as nicely as ever, in a suit as black as Noir's halls. His hair was slicked back and his beard was freshly trimmed. Around his throat was a dark blue tie resting against his black shirt. His hazel eyes drifted to Erza's bare shoulders. A smile came to his mouth, one just for her. It was fleeting, gone just as soon as it came. He turned his attention to Jellal. "How's the shoulder?"

Stiff and sore. "It'll be fine with another healing."

"Well. That's what we're here for." Julian tossed Jellal a pair of pants, slacks as black as his own. "Natalie was kind enough to grab some of your things from your room in Gomorrah. Put some clothes on."

Erza looked to the sky blue scrap of fabric he held in his other hand. She didn't think it was for Jellal. Julian held it out for her, confirming her suspicions.

Jellal sat up and grabbed it for her. "Some privacy?"

Julian looked like he was just waiting to hear the request. It felt like he was winning. Which bothered Erza to no end. She took the dress from Jellal's hands and stood before Julian could answer. Daring him to look. To comment, so she didn't have to feel at all guilty for pummeling him.

The man touched Wilber's shoulder, turning him in the opposite direction. "I see you're unbothered by things like modesty."

"I was only seeing if you had a scrap of decency in you, or if you were all pig," Erza said sharply.

Jellal stopped his clamber out of bed to raise his brows in her direction. Erza met his eyes steadily. He shook his head with a small smile and stood, dressing himself while Julian laughed.

"You're refreshing, Erza."

That was _not_ the reaction she was going for.

"Fearless."

There was a note in his voice that she didn't much like. Not that she liked _much_ about him. A hint of brass, a hint of mocking, a hint of adoration. She yanked the dress over her head. It was a bodycon dress, with a halter and a scooping neckline. The skirt around her legs was belled and flowing. It was a nice.

"I've been told."

"Are you decent?"

She wanted to tell him to fuck his hat. "You can look."

He turned, mouth lifting when he saw her. "Natalie always has the best tastes." He waved Wilber on. The man approached Jellal without a word and started undressing his wound. "How did you find Noir?"

"Too bloody for my tastes," Erza replied.

"Last night was a rarity," Julian said.

Erza wasn't sure if she believed him. Wilber's magic filled the room.

Julian said, "Is Jellal's life still worth _anything_ to you?"

Erza didn't look at Jellal, but she felt his eyes on her, probing, looking for answers as if they'd just spill out of her. She squared her shoulders. Though she knew he was going to be angry, she said, "Nothing has changed."

Picking up on the tension, Jellal said, "What did you do, Erza?"

She ignored him.

Julian's eyes shone. He glanced at Jellal, giving him a superior look. That look said _I have something that you cannot._ A debt. What was a life worth? "I haven't landed on an appropriate payment, but I do still have your word? _Anything?_ "

Anything seemed like such a broad word. "Just so we're clear, you're an asshole."

"Erza," Jellal said. "What did you do?"

"Begged me to save your life, at great cost to me," Julian filled the silence that Erza did not.

"Great cost to you?" Jellal asked in disbelief. "It's your healer that does the work, York, not you."

"Healers are hard to come by," Julian said. "Saving you put his life at risk."

"Release her from her debt."

It would have been better if he yelled, but Jellal's voice was as low and dangerous as ever. Cold. So easily Erza placed him on his throne, looking down at his chest pieces. Insane, deadly. Terrifying.

"That's not how the world works," Julian said.

"No one asked you for a lesson on fairness," Jellal replied. Wilber had stopped working. Erza couldn't tell if it was because he was finished or because he was frightened at the tensions rising in the room.

"No one asked, no, but it seems you need one," Julian said.

Jellal's hand closed in a fist. He took a step toward the other man.

"Enough," Erza intervened. "Even 'anything' comes with limits, regardless of what you think, Julian."

The man's expression darkened. "You said—"

"What I needed to, to save his life."

"So you lied."

Erza shook her head. "I am good for my word. I will pay my debts if the price is _fair_ , seeing as how you're so interested in balancing the scales. But only if."

"And who decides if it's fair?" Julian asked.

"We both will," Erza said.

Beside her, Jellal seethed. "Erza—"

"Enough." He could be mad all he wanted. It changed nothing.

Julian crossed his arms. "It's not exactly how I saw the deal when it was being struck, but… I'm a flexible man. Tonight—"

"I'm going with Jellal tonight," Erza said definitively, leaving no room for argument.

"You drive a hard bargain."

"I just don't think you've ever had anyone tell you no before, Julian," Erza said.

He showed her his teeth in a grin. "Will you please consider working for me? I'll pay you well. Better than the rest."

Erza stumbled. "What?" Jellal echoed her.

"A smart man will surround himself with those brave enough to voice their differing opinion, you're the only one I've met, Erza," Julian explained.

Maybe she was just the _smallest_ bit flattered. "My answer is the same as it ever was. No."

He shoved his hand through his hair, making it just slightly askew. "I still hope I can change your mind."

"Not likely," Erza said.

Julian directed his attention to Wilber. "Are you finished?"

"Yes, Mr. York," Wilber muttered.

Julian nodded to Jellal. "Remember what I said. No more mistakes. We're getting to the point in the game where if you fuck up next time, you're just going to be left to bleed." He started toward the door. "Erza, I'll put some thought into that payment."

Erza thought she already knew what would make them even. The cost of a life was a life.

* * *

A/N: Phew. Steamy. Sorry…

And holy sweet fuck, I'm so goddamn flowery. Even when I swear. It is a gift. Erm… Anyway. Thanks everyone for reading!

Happy Thanksgiving, all that are celebrating.

Au Revoir! See you next chapter :)


	25. Chapter 25

Because Julian only brought a dress, Erza had to go through her armoury for a pair of shoes. She didn't have too many appropriate pairs tucked into the space that was _supposed_ to be for armour and weapons. But there were some. She ended up settling on a pair of black strappy heels high enough that they hurt her toes. Normally, she never would have bought them—they were uncomfortable, audacious, but there was occasion. She'd change later, she decided, when they were out of Noir and out of Gomorrah, but for now, for all the headaches it'd save, she'd play the part.

When she'd finished tugging the ankle straps into place, she decided that she could no longer avoid the terrible look Jellal was giving her. She straightened from the position she knew he enjoyed (he could scowl all he liked, she saw the way he reacted to her) and asked bluntly, "What is it?"

He puffed his chest out, dying to be asked, and now thankful for the invitation to speak. "You shouldn't have made any deals with Julian."

Of course. "And what was I supposed to do, Jellal, watch you bleed?" Erza asked.

" _Yes_. You should have just left me to die." He said it with such force, she knew he truly believed that.

"You know I could never have let that happen."

He shoved his fingers through his messy hair. "And now you owe him a debt."

"It seems we're both doing things we shouldn't be, you letting Genève get close to you, and me, giving what I can to keep you alive." She felt badly as soon as she said it. There were no apologies, though. Jellal had been careless; he knew it; she wouldn't make excuses for him. "I can handle a debt, as long as you can remain unharmed."

Once more he shoved his hands through his hair, thoroughly mussing it this time. Erza had an urge to fix it but refrained just yet.

"Erza—"

His tone held the potential for lecture, so Erza did everything in her power to distract from that. "Where are we going tonight?"

He exhaled loudly, knowing a diversion when he saw one. He let her take it; the past couldn't be changed anyhow. "I suppose… to take care of Madam's other guard."

"The woman in the Abaya."

"Haya," he supplied, though not giving her a name would have been the easiest way to disassociate. _Disassociation is what brings the monster_. And yet, as much as he didn't want to don that mask tonight, especially in front of Erza, he knew it was what was going to make things go smoothly.

"Then we should go," Erza said. And get the hell out of Noir.

Jellal came to her, stepping well into her personal space. He cradled her cheek and tipped her face so she was forced to look at him. "Next time, let me die."

"Don't let there be a next time." She met his eyes and dared him to challenge her. He only stole a kiss, a long, lingering one. She started to bow into him just as he broke it off and finished dressing, taking the forest green dress shirt and black tie Julian left behind. He moved with surety, buttoning his shirt all the way to the top, then looping the tie around his throat.

"I'm sick of these clothes." Madam Genève would make them dress well, too. Dress well only to have it pawed at and ruined. But appearance was everything, especially in a place like Innisfil.

"So change."

Everything was so simple for Erza. There were two problems with that: Madam Genève would never let him get close to the Vault again dressed in his customary garb, and he had no bloody idea what the hell Sienna did with his clothes after he first arrived at Gomorrah. Knowing her, she probably threw them out. "This is fine."

Erza grabbed his hand and held it. Perhaps she sensed his inner turmoil. "It's only for a little longer."

Yes. Of course. He came out of her grasp and yanked on his shoes. The leather was still tight and mostly uncomfortable, but his toes had started to leave grooves in the soles, making them forever his. "Let's go."

* * *

Erza slid her fingers through her hair as she walked, doing whatever she could to make it obey. It was a lost cause, fluffy and curling slightly as it always did when she fell asleep with it wet. Jellal noticed her obsessing and grabbed her hand, entwining their fingers so she couldn't fuss. Now she had no outlet for her nervous energy. She just kept wondering what tonight would bring, and flinching as her heels cracked against the black marble floor.

Noir was a ghost town once again. "Where do you think everyone is?"

Jellal looked around the expansive corridor, as if the shadows would reveal the people they hid. The most surprising bit was that they _did_. In a nook, a tall and wide man with blonde hair had a dark skinned woman trapped against the wall. Her arm was out, waiting for him to slip the head of a needle into her skin. Jellal walked faster, as if that would stop him from wondering what was in that needle. More Silver? More Illusion? Some other drug he was unaware of? Something else to get beneath his skin and make him itch and crave like nothing else?

"You passed the Gold Room." Natalie's voice was a splash of cold water. Jellal made his eyes focus and found her leaning against a pair of midnight coloured elevators. She wore a peach coloured dress tonight, more modest than anything he'd ever seen her in before. The skirt was belled and pleated, falling a few inches above her knee, while the black-lined collar reached all the way up to her delicate throat. For all of that, she still managed to pout just right, curve her body perfectly, smile in just the right way. Everything was practiced, designed to make men and women alike think of undressing her in shadowy corners. He knew because he'd spent hours and hours in front of the mirror, doing the exact same thing to make Madam Genève proud. For all of his experience, Natalie was probably the best actress he'd ever seen.

"All of the hallways look the same," Erza said. Her cheeks were high with colour; she looked flustered. Jellal imagined all of the things going through her mind, her uncertainty, her questions. Last night might as well have been a million years ago, the lust gone, tucked away by a much more modest Erza.

Natalie came away from the wall, not nearly as uncertain. "Noir is confusing at first. You'll get the hang of it soon. It's this way." She started walking back the way they came.

"We won't because we're not staying," Jellal said, falling into step behind her. "We're taking care of this… problem Julian and I both have, and then we're packing up." Where they'd go, he had no idea. Would they travel together afterwards? He didn't know that either. If Erza would even _want_ to, because the fact still remained, he was a criminal still very much on the run. Maybe the Magic Council's reach didn't extend much to Innisfil, here, this guild-less town on the Western boarder, but he was _sure_ they'd take more of an interest in this place if they learned he was hiding here.

 _Not hiding. You're not making this your home._ Of course.

Natalie said, "I don't believe you'll leave; you love it as much as I do. It has a charm. A certain _je ne sais quoi."_

Her accent was flawless, reminding Jellal so much of Madam Genève that he tensed, squeezing Erza's hand too hard in the process. She didn't balk or pull away. She tightened her hold back, letting him know that she was standing there beside him. Always.

He made sure his voice would come out evenly before saying, "I have responsibilities." Not ' _I hate this town. I hate the indulgence. I hate the suppression. I hate the drugs, and the gambling and the blood._ ' But ' _I have responsibilities_.' He thought of Crime Sorciere. Who knew what kinds of havoc they were wreaking? They were probably scattered halfway across Fiore by now, falling right back into their troublesome ways. Or not, because most of them wanted to be better. _Stop trying to find ways to make staying seem easier_. He thought of all the ways Crime Sorciere needed him. For guidance mostly. After all, just because a person wanted something didn't mean that they had the capacity to obtain it. A tiger's stripes were its stripes, or some such nonsense. _And you are a tiger striped by this city. Shouldn't you be where you're most comfortable? Where you'll blend in to the underbrush_? He wanted to squeeze his temples until his mind just stopped.

"Of course you have responsibilities, Jellal," Natalie said. "We all do. Innisfil, though…" She looked wistful. "It's a beautiful city."

It wasn't really.

"All charm."

Falling apart, in the grip of crime lords and greedy millionaires that longed to be both.

"And desire."

There was plenty of hedonism.

"It's a place where every dream, every fantasy, can come true. How can you deny it?"

"Because every pleasure ride, every drug, has a comedown, Natalie," Jellal said, thinking of her standing on the edge of the dock those nights ago, staring out into Scarlet Lake while she contemplated diving into its poison waters just to get a fix. "And it's a comedown no one can be a champion of. This city will ravage you like it ravages everyone. It will take everything from you and leave you with nothing. That's how Innisfil is." Like it was a living, breathing thing that bred sinners.

"Exactly as I like it to be. I know he's brash and hard to get along with sometimes, but Julian wants you both to stay," Natalie said. "Even after your… job is completed." She made killing a woman sound so benign. "He told me to offer you anything you want. Money, drugs… women?" She tagged the last on with a wide smile and a wink at Erza. "All you have to do is work for him."

Though she was rattled, Erza managed to say, "You make that sound like an easy thing." Never mind that Julian was trying to buy them off with illegal things in illegal ways.

"I love Julian, therefore _everything_ I do for him is easy," Natalie replied. "He really isn't so bad. Rough around the edges, but what man worth loving isn't?" She looked to Jellal with the last. "Right, Erza?"

Jellal found his voice before Erza did. "I'm doing this one job, and then I'm leaving Innisfil for good. Nothing can change that."

She smiled. "We'll see." She curled down a hallway and stopped in front of an elevator that was unlike the others, shining golden. It wasn't where they came out of the Gold Room last night. Jellal said as much.

"It can be anywhere Julian tells it to be," Natalie said. "Behind any door." She pressed the button with black-tipped fingers. The elevator dinged and the doors whooshed open. She waved them inside but remained where she was. "Be safe tonight, Jellal, Erza. Gomorrah, Miss Edgar."

The doors slid closed, blocking Natalie from view.

"She's—" Erza didn't get a chance to finish before the room inverted.

Though Erza told herself to be prepared, she still suffered disorientation. She didn't fall, partially because she held herself up on the wall, and partially because she used her hold on Jellal to keep steady, but by the time the room finished spinning and twisting, her legs were jelly and her vision was doubled.

The elevator door opened, depositing them inside Gomorrah's kitchen once more. Erza straightened, tugging her dress back into place and pushing her hair back from her shoulders. The minor adjustments helped her feel moderately in control again. She stepped out, towing Jellal along behind her. Those first few steps were difficult to perform with grace. Standing was a feat to be celebrated.

For all the wobbling, no one even looked their way; apparently people appearing from a freezer and staggering through the kitchen wasn't so uncommon. The smell of cooking food, the clatter of plates and pans, and the faint _ding_ of slot machines drifting through the closed doors chased out the unsettling and peculiar quiet that had been Noir.

They came out into the bar. Jellal was aware of the eyes on him, staring at his tattoo, at Erza holding his hand. He knew what it looked like: he was purchased for her pleasure. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. _Soon Genève will be dead and her influence here will be moot. No one will look at your tattoo and think whore. No one will come with a pile of cash held in their outstretched hand and ask if you would do something you're just not okay with doing. You won't have to do it anyway or suffer the wrath of an unforgiving mistress. You'll be free. Truly free._

He blocked out the voice that said there was no such thing. What did it know anyway? You just have to take a few more lives. And he wanted to. As much as he didn't. It was that war, the struggle between the two, what he should want and what he craved more than anything, that made him jittery.

He pulled Erza to a stop beside the bar and ordered a shot of tequila, just to calm his nerves.

And another.

"Jellal." There was concern in Erza's voice. "You shouldn't be—"

"One more, please," he told the blue haired bartender.

"Of course, Mr. Fernandez." The woman topped up his shot glass.

He sucked it back without the lime or salt, then tried to pay her. She waved him off.

"Mr. York said everything was on the house for you."

What a dangerous proposition. Money, drugs, rooms with views of the most beautiful and poisonous lake he knew. He had everything he needed, and with Erza at his side, it was truly perfect. All he had to do was ask her to stay; he thought she might, if he wanted. Julian knew how to tempt. Jellal wondered faintly if it was he or Erza the man wanted, or if he saw value in them both.

* * *

Erza ditched her dress for her favorite armour, though it was heinously noisy and heinously unsubtle. They attracted a lot of attention navigating the streets like that. _It can't be helped,_ she thought. She felt eyes upon her every step of the way.

It didn't take long to get off Aurum Avenue and to the west side of Innisfil. The most precarious part of the journey was passing by the Basement, where a slew of petty and professional criminals alike waited to line their pockets with lazy passerby's riches. None bothered them, perhaps seeing Madam's mark on Jellal and deciding that it wasn't worth her wrath for a few stray coins.

Down the alleyway that hid the Basement's entrance, Jellal looked for the guard inlaid in the wall; he wasn't visible tonight, though Jellal knew he was there, watching, waiting for anyone that wasn't meant to travel onto that foot-worn path that led into the black market district.

Into the Slats, the sparse middle-class section of Innisfil, Jellal let Stone Boulevard take him to the vender stalls. It was getting late to purchase fruit, the sun long ago set, but if you had cash and a smile and a honeyed voice, a person could get nearly anything they wanted.

Jellal came to a stop before a young lady preparing for the next day's sales. She knelt behind her stall, packing away crates overflowing with fruits inside the stall's frontage.

"We're closed for the evening," the girl said absently, barely gracing him with a glance.

Jellal stepped in front of her, making sure she knew he wasn't going anywhere without at least a moment of her attention. With his wallet in hand, Madam's favorite smile on his mouth, a few choice words had the girl stammering, an offer of an extra tip had her reaching for her plumpest pomegranate. It was redder than sin. Jellal accepted it graciously, thinking all the while how he'd cut it open for Haya himself and make sure she enjoyed it. Maybe seeing all that red would gift him the courage to slice her open.

Who was he fooling, though? It wasn't finding the courage to do so that was the problem. It was finding the strength to stop.

* * *

Well-maintained walkways turned cracked and old. Gardens overflowing with flowers turned choked and weed-ridden. Rich houses bowed out of the way for homes that needed a little extra love, shanties that bent with Scarlet Lake's prevailing wind. And yet, they still remained outside the poverty quarter. The docks on the west end of town were worse kept than those surrounding Gomorrah. Julian actually paid to have his tended, where as these out here were used by the city to bring in wares, goods and people.

"When we find her," Jellal told Erza, sensing they were approaching their destination, "You should stay back, let me handle it."

"What if you need me?"

He looked sideways to meet her eyes. They were as black as bottomless pits in the near lightless night. The moon moved fully behind a cloud, making her a girl of shadow. Nevertheless, nothing could tame the gleam of that cursed red hair. He touched it, unable to help himself, threading his fingers through the soft tresses. He'd never get tired of it. She shivered.

"Jellal?"

"Hm?"

"I said, what if you need me?" She couldn't hide the uncertainty in her voice, that gentle warble that told Jellal she wasn't as confident in him as she could be. As she _should_ be. _I suppose I deserve that_ , he thought, thinking of his dismal performance.

"I'll be alright."

"And if you're not?" She was relentless, not generous with her trust after holding his blood inside his body while she prayed that a half-dead healer would be able to patch him back together.

Jellal bit back pride and annoyance; one day, both would be his downfall. That day wasn't today, though, and it wouldn't be at the hands of Titania. Hopefully. He could write tales and tales about that tragedy if it ever came time. "You won't be far."

"If she's as powerful as everyone says she is—"

"All wind users have one weakness in common, Erza," Jellal said with mock poise. "They're physical strength is always lacking."

"It's not the physical attacks that I'm worried about," she murmured. The mental, to be sure. Aloud, she said, "The magic worries me."

His pride stung again. "I've never had someone tell me they didn't trust my capabilities as a mage."

The clouds helped hide Erza's blush. She told herself to stop worrying. It was hard. She grabbed his hand and pulled him up short beside a stone bench beneath a huge red oak tree. The tree's leaves were just starting to turn as late summer eased into fall, not that she could see it in the night, but she imagined what the leaves would look like, their tips blemished with autumn's red kiss.

Rising on tiptoe and wrapping her arms around Jellal's throat made her armour squeal slightly. She winced, wishing it were quieter. There was nothing for it. "I can't help but worry." She kissed him lightly to cushion the words. "But I trust you."

This close, Jellal could see each of Erza's freckles, the sweetheart curve to her lips. They were still moist with his kiss. "If you trust me, then stop worrying and sit, Erza."

"…Will you kill her?"

Jellal knew she only wanted one answer. He couldn't lie. "I can't not, can I?" _Please say no. please say no. pleasesayno._

He could see each word of protest in Erza's eyes. ' _She's done nothing wrong.' 'It's amoral.' 'I know you're addicted to the thrill of it. It's poison and you need to stop.'_

Maybe the last was his own thoughts. Or… maybe he didn't pretend as well as he thought. Erza always knew him too well.

"If it's necessary."

Jellal's knife felt a little lighter after that, and wasn't that a shame? He kissed her swiftly and relished every moment her mouth gave beneath his, every breath that was taken in too shallowly. Every slight tremble of her body, her armour rattling to give her away. He made himself lean away, scared of how much he enjoyed her hesitation. That mean streak belonged to a different Jellal. Only, lately, he was wondering if they were so different after all. Really, he'd had this capacity within him the whole time, hadn't he?

Stop thinking and start acting, he thought. "Stay here." He only turned away after Erza eased herself back against the oak. He refused to look into her eyes one last time. He didn't want her to beg him—even silently—to be more man than monster tonight. If he were, he wouldn't be able to do what needed to be done. An innocent girl would remain a prisoner, a man would remain a slave, Madam Genève would continue to be protected and free. He'd never learn the secret to the anti-magic lacrimas. The mages that Madam Genève killed for her Illusion would continue to die.

Yes, there was a lot riding on Haya's death. He wondered if she knew she was such a lynchpin.

Jellal followed the cobblestone path west, leaving Erza behind. Every few feet, massive oaks offered the path shelter. The wind grabbed their leaves and made them chatter. Just meters away, Scarlet Lake glowed, bathing everything in that beautiful and eerie shine. Crickets groused louder than the lapping waves, but silenced when he stepped too near to them.

The first few docks came into view, long wooden boards weather worn, bashed by waves, pounded by rain, whipped by wind and baked by the sun. _Empty. Empty. Empty_. Jellal had an unfortunate thought this late in the game: what if Eli simply… lied? What if he led Jellal into an ambush? What if Jellal had guessed wrongly, and Celia wasn't Eli's sister?

Then the fourth dock came into view and he saw her by the light of a massive fire. On her knees, forehead touching the dock, hands splayed out in front of her body, she sang prayer after prayer. Lamenting the passage of souls from this life into the next. Burning the evidence so the streets and Scarlet Lake's bottom didn't fill up too much with corpses. Money could make the police overlook only so much, after all. Then even the most crooked would remember why they became an officer to begin with. That scrap of morality would cost them their lives, but at least they would die with some dignity. It was the same feeling he was trying to capture with Crime Sorciere. He wondered if in order to obtain that, they'd all have to taste death. It wasn't a thought that was new to him; he only wished to do something moral before that happened.

He approached fearlessly. Or so he made it seem. Each step was confident, sure, even if Haya's prayers rang through his bones, giving him the heebie jeebies.

Her song stopped when he was mere feet away. " _Iblis_. To what do I owe this honour?" Beneath her knees was a scarlet and gold rug she'd lain down.

"I've come to repay your kindness."

She rested her forehead against the deck and breathed deeply. "Is that what it's called now when a man comes looking for blood? Most gift me flowers, or gold. Rarely ruby necklaces with a tendency to wash away." She lifted herself up from her bent position, as graceful as ever. Her face was bare when she looked at him. He was again struck by her beauty; Madam kept only the finest, most exotic. In seconds, she had her veil's lavender material adjusted over her face again. The onyx inlayed in its trim winked out, blacker than the eyes on the moon.

Haya asked, "Do you know why we bare our faces when we pray, _Iblis_?"

He found himself shaking his head.

"It is so the gods may recognize us by our true face, and not just our voice. Words can be twisted and manipulated. People lie." She touched his chin. He didn't recall letting her get so close, but there she was. "Faces, though, that's where our true selves cannot remain hidden. The gods require honesty." She brushed his hair back. "Tell me. Do you ever get sick of the devil you carry? Lying to everyone you love, saying you're alright when really, you're just short of snapping?"

"I'll tell as many lies as I need to because this devil has helped me through a great many things." Jellal's voice came out hoarse.

She looked at him pityingly. "And he's sowed the seeds you must now reap. How aggravating it must be to live in constant war with oneself. Qad tajid alssalam." _May you find peace._

"One day I hope to," Jellal replied. The wind shifted, bringing to him the smell of burning bodies: hair, cotton clothes. It was repugnant. The wind changed course again, taking it away. Jellal reached into his pocket. Haya tensed. She relaxed a moment later when he pulled the pomegranate out.

"You truly brought one."

His knife came out next. "I swindled a vender's daughter for this, blatantly begged. She thinks she's in love."

She laughed; it was _almost_ carefree. "You are a shameless man. Surely, Madam has done well by you."

Jellal cut into the pomegranate and split the flesh open. One by one, the seeds glistened by the firelight. He plucked one out and held it for Haya. She lifted her veil and took it from his fingers, using her tongue. Her eyes closed, the seed crushed between her teeth. She hummed lowly. Her enjoyment was something to behold. No one ever appreciated anything so much as those Madam had deigned to deny.

Casually, Jellal said, "I don't want to have to kill you."

"But Madam's _Iblis_ has told you that you must." She held out her tongue for the next seed. Jellal obliged. The fire crackled at her back, burning mages to ash.

"It's hard to argue when I see the bonfire you've created."

"And yet, I've put much on the line for you, Jellal."

"Haya." He added another seed to her red, red mouth. "You're not just Madam's whore. You're one of her guard. I can't ignore that, even if you've risked your life to help me."

She touched his chest, fingers slipping inside his green dress shirt. "I am a woman kept for the way she pleasures, and for her magical talents. Perhaps it's not a duty I've enjoyed. What is one to do?"

"Leave if you don't like it so much," Jellal told her. She wasn't like the lost children that found their way to Madam's stoop. She was powerful and cunning and beautiful. The world could be hers, if she wanted.

Her words mimicked Natalie's as she said, "Innisfil never lets you go. Madam's grip is even tighter."

Didn't he know it.

"The _Iblis_ truly is with Julian York now?"

"So it would seem."

Her veil puffed out with her annoyed breath. "You know… whatever tenuous agreement you've made with him… Eli will betray you. _Iblis_ does not fall on his shoulders lightly. He has earned his title."

Jellal was afraid of that. He'd gambled, though, and it was too late to alter his bet. "He loves Celia. He'll do what he can for her freedom."

"Yes," Haya agreed. "He loves her. He loves her so much, he'd rather her be dead then in the hands of another master with their eyes set on a prize they think only he can help them obtain. There is nothing greater than knowing the minds and hearts of your enemy. People won't stop trying to hold that man against his will. I've seen it in his eyes: he will do whatever is necessary to take that power away."

"He won't have to. I am going to free Celia," Jellal said. "No one is going to be dying."

"You know Julian will be no different, right? Eli must, surely. Forget all of this, you and Eli both. Madam is willing to forgive him as well, just to prove how merciful she is."

 _Merciful._ Right. She was missing her trump card and was sore that it was holed up in Julian's hotel. "If it comes time and Julian starts to get strange ideas of how he can manipulate Eli, I will take care of Celia, remove her from Julian's grasp, and offer her the protection Eli craves."

"You cannot protect everyone, Jellal, not even yourself." Haya's words were like a knife, carving out his faults. "You could have been dead four times over. It's Madam's kindness that's kept you for so long."

"Kindness? Every time she's let me live has been a slap in the face," Jellal exploded. "Nothing comes for free where she's involved."

"No," she conceded, "But in this case, the only price she wants you to pay is for you to come home. She's told all of her people to welcome you back with open arms if that's your wish."

Jellal's heart felt like it was just going to beat right out of his chest. "And if it's not?"

"Then I am to kill you, something I don't relish."

"You call me a devil at every turn. When I touch you, you flinch." Even when he was high on Illusion, useless and numb. "You're afraid of me. Why would you ever lament killing me?" There weren't many lives that he'd taken that he'd regretted. Simon. That was all. And only because it had signified the moment Erza truly decided that he was lost. It had made her cry; it had scarred her. She still saw him, and still saw his killer when she looked at Jellal. It didn't matter how many faces he put on. She'd never forget. _And she shouldn't_.

Above her veil, Haya's eyes were turning depthless, as if she were slowly blocking off the part of her that was compassionate and kind. Unlike the summoning of his own darkness, she struggled with hers. It was slow in coming; she still wanted to resolve this peacefully. "Because, I recognize that even monsters need to roam. Without them, we forget what it is to be kind." She cupped his face between her two palms so he was forced to look at her. "It's not too late. Stop this crusade and just let it go. Be with her again. Anything can be yours."

 _Anything_. Jellal pulled back and shoved his hand through his hair, careless with the knife. By some grace, he didn't drop it or cut himself. "I—"

"As she told you, she wants you there, not as a whore, Jellal, but as _hers_. You'll brush her hair and help her dress, you'll bathe her and comfort her and be there whenever she needs release. You _want_ this. I see it in your eyes."

The scary part was, some part of him _liked_ hearing that. Eli trilled in his head, ' _broken toy_.' And did he ever feel fragmented. He knew what he should want, and what he did, but he also knew what he subconsciously _thought_ he wanted. What Madam wanted him to want.

"Please. This whole scheme is an impossibility. She's not careless with her life, and she'll never let a man in to see Celia, the _Iblis_ must have told you. Only women may purchase her—"

 _Listen. Let it go. You'll never kill_ her. Jellal closed his eyes, blocking out the voice. _Stop. Stop. Stop._ He drew up the memory of Madam's cheeks turning cherry red, her eyes going wide with too much of the whites showing. The feeling of his hand around her throat. The _sound of her choking_. _You're not hers. You don't_ have _to belong. You can kill her. You've already almost done it once._

"Haya." Opening his eyes again, he made his intentions known in no uncertain terms by grabbing her throat. She gasped. He choked it off with a squeeze of his fingers and stepped in so they were body-to-body. He felt the rise and fall of her chest, her heart, fluttering like a hummingbird. So delicate. Dropped, the pomegranate rocked on the rotting dock, the majority of the seeds bouncing out and scattering, like rubies spilling from a purse. "Days ago, you spoke to me of a cruel mistress. A woman that denies you. And yet, here you are, doing your best to lure me in."

"Release me." Haya's voice wasn't very strong. Her body shook. She was frightened. _And rightfully so,_ Jellal thought. Everyone should fear the monster. Using his knife, he slit open her Abaya at her naval, wide enough that a large slice of her belly was revealed. Then he ran his thumb over her skin. It wasn't as smooth today as it had been before, raised in welts. Every time he touched one, she winced and struggled, trying to get away. Jellal only tightened his hold. She gasped, the sound pained.

"She knows of our conversation. She knows you told me where to find Eli, isn't that right? And this is your punishment. Lashings." He loosened his hold just enough for her to respond.

Haya gripped his wrist. "She was going to beat me to death in front of the others." She took in a sharp breath. "But instead she gave me a thrashing I would never forget, the ends of her whip dipped lightly in Silver oil." She was more forthcoming than Jellal expected. "Your actions have a rippling effect. Stop this before you can't. Come back to the Vault."

He traced the raised ridges on her belly, feeling her tense and shiver. Guilt was a very real thing. _I did this_. "I—I will end your suffering, Haya."

Her lips parted; already they were going blue. _Why doesn't she call her magic?_ He could _feel_ it. She was as powerful as he would expect of a mage standing by Madam's side. And yet, she didn't raise her hand. He looked over her shoulder to the bodies she set ablaze, to the scarlet and gold rug she knelt upon to say her prayer, to the crimson beads of pomegranate scattered. And faltered.

 _I was a monster before I was a man. I was a monster before I was a man. I was a monsterbeforeIwasaman._

He told himself to squeeze harder, to end her suffering.

Instead he opened his mouth and said something stupid. "Leave this place."

Haya only stared at him.

"Did you hear me?" he rasped. "Leave this town. Leave the Vault. Leave your prayers, Haya, and your bodies. _Get out_. Or I will kill you. You won't leave me any choice."

"Jellal—I can't. I don't want to fight with you, but if she knows we met and I did nothing… Please—come home—"

He pushed her back hard enough that she fell to the rotting dock. Her Abaya tore wider, exposing the raised skin at her belly, the blackened flesh, necrotized by unrefined Silver oil. Madam ruined everything beautiful. " _I told you to leave_!"

She cringed at his volume. But didn't move. He felt suddenly violent. Reaching, he reefed her to her feet again. He wasn't sure if he was going to push her into the lake or onto land. Haya thought she knew, though. Trapped and panicked, the magic came to her, a gust of wind that was meant to take him from his feet _._ His own magic responded. Grand Chariot was overkill, to be sure, but there was no stopping it once it had started, it was like another Jellal took the reins. The sky darkened before it got bright. Scarlet Lake roiled.

"Stop it," Haya commanded. "Stop—release me—" Her words dried up as the spell materialized.

Someone somewhere yelled, scared. And then Haya was screaming. And screaming. The dock splintered and broke apart. In the burning light, he saw Haya clearly: a scared girl about to breathe her last. She clung to her Abaya with white-knuckled hands, mouth parted in a paralyzed O. _Here she is, slipping from one terror's punishment to the other's._

Comparing himself to Madam Genève was sobering. Jellal called the spell back. It took a lot of effort; by the time he was done, he was panting. The dock was mostly ruined, both he and Haya on the verge of experiencing Scarlet Lake's depths.

The blinding light cleared, making way for the lake's glow. In the unnerving red wash, Haya shivered and hiccupped in violent breaths. Terrified. Still, there was iron beneath the fear. However afraid she was of him, Madam scared her more. A pity.

This time when she rose and summoned gale-force winds, Jellal's knife was in his hand. He dug it into her ribs without much thought. Hot blood eased over his fingers, making them slippery. "I told you. I told you to leave, Haya. Why didn't you listen?" How was he supposed to be merciful when he was pushed into cruelty? How was he supposed to _separate_ the monster and the man when he was only ever allowed to be a monster? He did his best to shove the knife in further.

"I was a monster before I was a man, Haya. I was a monster _before I learned to be a man_." _And now I am a monstrous man._

Faintly, he was aware of Haya's mouth moving. Again and again, forming over the same thing. He thought it might have been another prayer. Haya of the prayer. Her gods weren't protecting her now, though.

"Jellal."

 _Because there are none._

"Jellal."

 _There is only suffering and pain and blood._

"Jellal, let her go."

Something cold bit into his neck. A blade. The hand that held it quivered.

The world came back into focus and he realized that the funnel Haya's magic had been birthing had completely died, and the thing that Haya was chanting was, "I'll leave. I'll leave Innisfil. Please, _Iblis_ , I don't want to die by a devil's hand. I'll leave. I'll leave. _Iblis_ , please."

"Jellal." And that was Erza. Erza's sword was at his throat. She'd drawn her sword on him. At first he was _furious_. He imagined swinging around and finding her lungs with his blade, too. Then he remembered Eli's implanted vision, his dream. His hallucinations. ' _We used to kill for a reason.'_

 _Stop. Stop this. She is begging to live._

He pulled the knife from Haya's ribs. His hands shook so badly, it dropped from his fingers, looking benign where it landed on the ruined dock, not something that took lives, just another scrap of metal.

Haya breathed erratically. She clutched her hands to her bleeding side, trying to stop the flow of blood. Jellal didn't know if the tip of the knife pierced her lungs or not. Nor did he get to ask. She pushed past him, movements both awkward and hurried, and fled into the night.

" _Gods."_ The sword at his throat disappeared. Erza wrenched him around. "What the hell was that?"

She was fury personified.

"I—" His mouth was dry like cotton. "I—"

"Answer me!" She shook from head to foot.

"I told her to go—"

"She was begging for her life, Jellal," Erza informed. "And you looked on blindly. You had no intention of _letting her go_."

'Iblis, _please_.' "I—" _didn't hear. Didn't know. Couldn't care_.

She pushed her hair back from her face. There was real fear in her eyes, and tears. "What's happening to you? Every time I look at you…" She trailed off, not wanting to voice how troubled he was becoming.

Jellal did it for her. "I couldn't stop." Erza wasn't the only one that was scared. He'd spent a lot of time toeing the edge, defining the difference between want and necessity when it came to bloodshed. The line used to be hazy, but still recognizable. Now it was impossible to see.

 _Because I was always a monster._

 _And never a man._

"Gods." She pushed her hair back again, then pinched her eyes closed. "Tell me you're alright."

And she didn't just mean physically. "Erza…" He didn't _know._ "I—I feel like I'm losing my mind." Slowly, bit by bit, falling deeper and deeper into the spiral. _It's this city. These people. Madam Genève._ "Stay away, Erza." He didn't trust himself. "I can't think straight. I'm—" ' _Right fucked, aren't you? Just a broken toy_.' Eli's narrative was particularly brutal; perhaps because there was absolutely no hiding from that man.

Erza hesitated, then stepped into him. The fear wasn't gone, she still trembled as she gathered him in a hug that was grounding and nurturing and forgiving, but it'd been pushed aside. "No. You need help, Jellal, from the people that love you. I won't stay away, not ever."

Hotness pricked at his eyes. _Tell her again_. He couldn't. Not Erza. She wasn't the kind of girl to be denied. He drew her in without ever meaning to, and pressed his cheek against the top of her head. He'd never felt greedier.

The moon sunk. The waves died with the wind. They stayed like that for so long, Jellal felt as a statue, stiff and cold.

Erza was the first to break the silence. "Jellal?"

He had to clear his throat to make his voice work. "Yes?"

"I heard what Haya said. I'm going to the Vault for Celia. When she's free and some place safe, I'll return for Genève, and I'll end this. And then we can focus on—on making you better."

 _She's my demon, my skeleton. My burden_. "Genève is mine."

He must have said it with ironclad conviction because Erza caught her breath and searched his eyes. What she saw there made her jaw tighten. "I'll be standing behind you."

* * *

So tardy! I'm sorry. So sorry. Thank you so much for reading. You've been most magnificent.


	26. Chapter 26

It was approaching two in the morning by the time Erza stepped into Gomorrah. It didn't seem to matter that it was incredibly late; the casino was bustling like always. As she walked, she magicked away her armour in favour of the blue dress Julian had given to her. People looked her way. She kept her eyes forward, walking with purpose to the rooms where Julian had dragged Jellal two nights before when he was ill from Silver Dragon.

Beside Erza, Jellal was silent. His hands were still red with blood; Erza did her best not to notice the way he rubbed the tacky substance between his fingers and stared at it too long, a complex expression on his face: eager. Disgusted. It broke her heart. It made her sick with worry.

 _Just do this. Save Celia. Then you can work on making him better._ Yet, in the darkest corners of her mind, she worried that there _was_ no getting better. _That's not true. He's been well for a long time. This is a recent thing._ Except, she didn't know _that_ either. There were seven years of time they'd spent apart when she was trapped on Tenrou Island. Seven years in which any number of things could have happened that escaped her notice, and anyone else's. Jellal was secretive, and cunning, devious when it befitted him. Hiding unstableness, an unusual fondness for blood and a mean streak behind duty and a blank façade, was well within his capabilities. He was the best pretender she knew. It didn't make her love him any less. Wishing it weren't so didn't make a bit of difference. _Maybe I'm twisted, too._

She distanced herself from the thought and tried to focus on the facts. The point remained that this newest breakdown could have been a long time coming. _And really, what did you expect after everything?_ She _knew_ Ultear had been in his head, jumbling everything about. She _knew_ that he'd had violent tendencies both before and after. Was it so unreasonable to think that he'd always been sick?

Thinking that made her feel like a rat in a cage. _And if that's how_ you _feel, just imagine how Jellal feels_. Sick and scared, because he _knew_ that there was something terribly wrong. Before she could knock on the door and find Julian, and hopefully Sienna, she reached for Jellal's hand, despite the blood, and squeezed his fingers. He met her eyes just briefly. She could see he was uncomfortable, with this plan, with what was happening in his head.

"Everything is going to be okay."

What was supposed to comfort him only made him look out of place. He wasn't _used_ to this lack of control. _There's no helping it._ Maybe when he went after Genève and dealt with that childhood monster, things would start to get better for him. She wasn't sure if that was the best route either, though. Any number of things could go wrong. He could hesitate when the woman didn't, he could freeze, he could go totally blank as he did with Haya and be unnecessarily ruthless.

"Of course," Jellal agreed, but the way he said it made her think that he didn't much believe that. Erza attempted to fortify her belief. _Everything will be fine. I'll be there to make sure everything happens as it's supposed to._

 _As it's supposed to._ It didn't seem to matter what she thought, the doubts kept coming. _Should I let Jellal kill Genève?_ She bit her cheek until it hurt, torn. For Jellal, killing her would be like bleeding a festering wound, cleansing. Except... she was encouraging him to kill, which felt wrong in his current state. _But I told him I'd be standing behind him._ Promised, in a way...

 _Later. Think on that later_. Right now, she had to focus on getting to Celia, on helping Jellal hold up his end of the bargain. A girl's life was at stake. She came up on tiptoe and kissed Jellal swiftly, then released him and closed the distance to the large white door at the end of a surprisingly empty hallway. She didn't imagine that Julian _didn't_ have people watching his private quarters. He was smarter than that.

Raising her fist, she knocked. As she waited, she wondered if Genève bothered to replace her guard, or if hubris was a veil she wore proudly, like most of the rich she knew. Then she wondered if she'd seen the last of Haya, or if the woman would grace their lives again, more loyal to Genève than they realized.

So long passed with no reply, Erza thought she was wrong in assuming that Julian was in Gomorrah. She was on the verge of giving up when the door opened, revealing their quarry.

Looking as well-kept as he had earlier that evening, Julian looked Erza over, a smile coming to his mouth. "Erza."

She put on the darkest look she could manage. "Julian."

He was annoyingly unaffected. "What a pleasure it is to see you. It was taking you two so long, I thought perhaps I'd have to find someone else more competent."

Erza didn't have to see Jellal to know that he was stewing. He did his absolute best to keep his temper under wraps, afraid after what happened with Haya earlier.

"Come." Julian opened his door wide and revealed the inside of his rooms here in Gomorrah. It looked very different than it had the other night. There were no bleeding and soggy men strewn across the floor, there was only smoke-choked air and gleaming tile spattered with discarded clothes. Erza followed the cotton trail to blue-painted toes still sheathed in white stiletto heels, and a pair of long, pale legs. Looking up, she found Sienna's face, red lips, black-lined eyes, loose hair. She was bare except for a crisp white garter, a tiny white thong, and a white corset that hiked her rounded breasts up in alarming ways. Erza's head rushed.

"So." Julian let the door swing closed. He came to his leather couch and dropped himself down, picking up his cigarette from the ashtray and taking a deep drag off of it. "How did it go?"

Erza opened her mouth to respond. Jellal cut her off. "Haya is gone."

Julian sucked on his teeth. "Gone?"

"Yes."

"Smoke?" Julian offered, taking a crisp package of cigarettes off the table and handing it off to Jellal as if he just realized that maybe it was rude not to offer. Erza waited for Jellal to decline. He didn't, shaking one out and striking the offered match. He puffed the cigarette to life like he'd done it a million times—he had for all she knew—and blew out a thin stream of grey smoke.

"Can I have one, Mr. York?" Sienna asked with a saucy twist of her lips.

Julian raised his brow. "I think you know the answer to that, Sienna. No one wants to kiss a girl that tastes like an ashtray."

Erza clenched her fist, mad just for the sake of being mad. "She's her own person." Not that she smoked or promoted it, but shouldn't Sienna be allowed to do what she wanted?"

"Not when she's working, Erza." Julian stood and straightened his suit jacket. He switched gears. "Tell me, Jellal, what does _gone_ mean? Is Haya dead? Is that what all that blood on your hands means?"

There was only one answer Julian wanted. Jellal recognized it well before Erza did and lied fluently. "Yes. I watched her drown in her own blood." There was a faraway look in his eye. A chill spider-walked Erza's spine; she knew exactly what he was doing: imagining in vivid detail Haya drawing the last breath he never got to experience. What he wanted in his heart of hearts frightened her. _Just get Celia and be done with this. Then you can give your attention to his mental health._

Not that she knew where to begin. Suffocating medication that would alter the way he saw the world? Talking to the point of exhaustion so they could break down his illness and rationalize it? She was no doctor. She didn't _know_ how to make him better. But she would try.

Julian drew Erza back to the matter at hand. "Congratulations on your first win. It's only been a week or two."

The sarcasm was cutting; Jellal withstood it with as much dignity as Erza could have hoped. With any luck, the lie wouldn't come back on them. "I'm not stopping there. Celia will be freed, hopefully by tonight, and Madam will be dead shortly after."

"Ambitious," Julian mused. "Sometimes I get a glimpse of a very different man, Jellal, one that knows what he wants and is unafraid to take it. I like _that_ Jellal best. He doesn't fuck around." Julian took his handkerchief from his pocket and wetted it with water from a decanter. He handed it to Jellal and said, "Just don't get blood on the upholstery."

Jellal took the offered cloth and methodically wiped the blood from his hands. While he was doing that, Julian directed his attention to Erza. "Come, Erza, I've put some thought into our agreement. Let's discuss conditions in a more private setting."

"There is only us in here," Erza said, not thrilled to go with Julian anywhere.

"And that's two people too many," Julian replied, looking between Sienna and Jellal. "Sienna, my love, keep practicing. I'm sure Jellal would be happy to help."

Sienna wrung her fingers together, glancing nervously at the red cloth in Jellal's hand. _She's scared of him_ , Erza realized. "Mr. York," Sienna said. "I was really hoping to show you—"

Julian went to her, kissing her cheek. "You're gorgeous _and_ talented, don't get me wrong, but you could use a little more practice if you want to do well. Go ahead."

Sienna gathered up a lock of hair between her long fingers and combed it out.

Every nervous twitch made Erza sadder. She knew people were afraid of Jellal, but when they first arrived at Gomorrah, Sienna wasn't one of those. _Maybe you're wrong. Maybe she's nervous about something else._ "What are you making her do?"

"Making her?" Julian asked. He shook his head. "She wants to dance on stage, Erza. Our dancers make more cash than our singers, I'm not going to lie. I told her she could do whatever she wanted, just as soon as she got good enough. And here we are." He patted Sienna's round rump and nipped her jawline. "Go on."

Sienna dropped her lock of hair. "Yes, Mr. York."

Erza watched with mixed feelings as Sienna took Jellal's hand and brought him to the couch. He didn't push her away or protest at all really as she poured him a drink of the scotch Julian had going for himself. She placed it into his hand, curling his fingers around the glass, then straightened. The nervousness was gone, hidden behind a very convincing veil.

"This way, Erza." Julian started toward a door on the opposite side of the room. He hit a button on the wall on his way by and music spilled from the ceiling, the kind that was good for dancing. Erza was paralyzed for another moment, watching Jellal while he sipped his scotch, hauled on his cigarette, and allowed Sienna to drop onto his lap in an alluring way.

He met Erza's gaze around Sienna's body, a cacophony of things happening behind that expression. In amongst all of the seeming laziness and relaxation was a man that watched the world through sharp eyes. As she feared, he eyed Julian in a way that was calculated. In his _Tower of Heaven Way_.

 _He's just acting, putting on a face he'll think Julian will understand. It's okay._ He was one of the best pretenders she knew. A chameleon if she'd ever seen one. _Get moving._

Except, she couldn't help but wonder as she walked if he truly was acting, or if he was finding home in Gomorrah. Could he want all of the things Natalie mentioned? Money, drugs, women? Notoriety again? A step out of anonymity, into the light he'd been denied since he began this race from the law?

Erza gnawed on her tongue. She knew what kind of man Jellal was.

Unfortunately, she knew what kind of man he _could b_ e as well.

* * *

"Why are you so nervous?" Julian closed the door between the two rooms behind Erza and went for yet another decanter of scotch. It was like all he did was drink and smoke and fuck, a king in his castle, feeding off intemperance.

"I'm not."

"I think you're lying, Erza."

"What would I have to lie about?" Erza queried.

"Jellal," Julian said. "I know that look well. You're worried about him."

She dug her fingernails into her palm and walked the room, needing some way to disperse her energy.

"He's quite merciless. That's what bothers you, right?"

Erza glanced over her shoulder. "That's an awfully big leap to make."

"Not so much, when you've suddenly acquired a mind reader."

"Eli said he wouldn't help you until Celia was free."

"For a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of beer, you'd be surprised what a man would say," Julian told her.

Erza rolled her eyes and returned to pacing. "Because Genève has taken selling Celia to women only, I'm going to feign interest in purchasing her."

"Is that so? Maybe I should be paying you instead of Jellal," Julian mused.

"I want no money for this tasteless work," Erza replied shortly.

Julian rolled over her insult with grace. "You know, maybe it's a good plan. She was quite interested in your hide the other night, Erza. You'll want to be careful, though. I'm sure she won't be willing to let you in just for the fuck of it. She'll want to hurt me, which means hurting you."

Erza stopped her incessant pacing. "Yes, I've considered that. I'd prefer to do this as delicately as possible. I don't want to start an all out war with Genève if it can be avoided."

Julian crossed one arm over his chest and rested his elbow in his hand, the expression on his face thoughtful. "Believe me, I want this to go smoothly as badly as you do, but I'm sure Genève is suspecting an attack. Given that, I doubt if she'll even be at the Vault after Adisa, Eli and Haya have gone missing. She's greedy, though, and proud. The Vault must be open for business…" He fell into considering silence. Finally, he said, "I can spare two of my guards, Erza, to make sure you come back tonight, but that's it. I've had to tighten security here. I've had two attacks at Gomorrah since Adisa went missing. Thankfully, I've been able to keep them quiet so none of my guests are any wiser, but because of that, everyone is stretched thin and extra cautious."

"I don't need guards," Erza said. "I can handle this myself."

"Overconfidence has taken many lives," Julian said warningly.

"It's not overconfidence. This is something well within my capabilities." She hoped, "Everyone will be safer if I'm able to get in and get out of there quickly, without drawing too much attention or causing a fuss." She was _sure_ Jellal was going to want to be there in some capacity anyway. "I'll have all of the force necessary to pull this off."

He sipped his scotch, debating. "It'll be a pity if you end up dead."

Wouldn't it? Erza strengthened her resolve. "I'll be fine."

"Who am I to deny a lady if she insists?" Julian asked. "Which brings us to our next order of business. Your payment for Jellal's life."

Erza's stomach churned with nervousness. "Yes?"

"Don't look so dour. It's really not so bad," Julian teased. "If by some stroke of luck, Jellal finally manages to get hold of Genève, I want you to make sure he brings her back here alive. I have some questions I need to ask that woman and the dead aren't too talkative. I think he's forgotten about _that_ little bit of our agreement."

Erza supposed that was _one_ way of paying her dues. And wasn't it equal? A life for a life? She wasn't sure if she could stomach letting Genève live. Or if Jellal could, either. "He'll never let her walk her way here, Julian, you know that." She'd never seen Jellal hate anyone so much.

"That's why you're my insurance. Don't worry, Erza, as I said, he knows I want her alive and agreed to as much, so the request won't come as a surprise. I just don't fucking trust him," Julian said.

 _And you shouldn't,_ Erza thought. Aloud, she said, "If I'm able, I'll stop him from killing her."

"Try really, _really_ hard, Erza, her life is worth quite a bit to me," Julian said. Erza didn't miss the threat.

* * *

Jellal let Sienna wriggle onto his lap, her back facing his chest, before he asked, "Are you afraid of me?"

At the roughness of his voice, Sienna shivered, unable to help herself. "I… Yeah, Jellal, maybe a little."

 _Good._ And not good. He felt like he almost knew himself again when she was afraid.

"Not enough to stop, though." She sashayed her hips, rubbing over his erection in that skilled way she had. He closed his eyes, thumbing his cigarette. It had been years since he'd stolen one from one of his customers and smoked against Madam's wishes. He used to do it just because, much like Julian, she didn't like her whores smelling like smoke. It was one of the only ways he knew how to rebel at the time.

"Do you get sick of Julian's rules?"

Sienna took his hands and made him slide his palms over her body, up to her spilling chest. "Sometimes, but I know that any rule he makes I'll try to follow, Jellal, because it's still better than the alternative."

"Julian's a dick." He couldn't help himself.

Sienna said, "That may be so, but even at his worst, he's nicer than Madam ever was." Hesitantly, she asked, "Will you actually be able to kill her?"

In his head, Madam was choking. _Dying_. He grabbed Sienna without ever meaning to, being rougher than he planned. "She will die."

Sienna rocked her hips again, amalgamating his rage and pleasure into some kind of ugly-beautiful monster. Taking his wrist and lifting it, she brought his cigarette to her mouth and took a deep puff, lips tickling his fingers, hot breath breaking over his skin. He got harder still. "I thought you said you'd follow his rules?"

Sienna looked back over her shoulder, eyes bright and full of mischief. "I said I'd try. You know I like to test my boundaries, though."

"You shouldn't, Sienna. It's probably unwise to poke a snake."

"If I didn't, I never would have got to kiss Erza." The comparison was adept; it was easy to liken Erza to a volatile viper, full of venom when she needed to be. Sienna made him grab her again. Jellal felt too tight against his pants. "I never would have had all that fun last night." She dropped one hand between her legs and brushed lightly over her center, moaning with a light sigh. "She's so pretty when you make her come." Her voice was a weak and sultry whisper that had Jellal's throat smaller than a pin. He wanted Erza more badly than anything in that moment. He wanted to strip her down and taste between her legs, he wanted her breasts spilling out of that ridiculous blue dress she wore, he wanted her cheek pressed against the floor, flushed and redder than roses, he wanted to make her scream and leave deep fissures in his skin. And he wanted Sienna to watch. He broke down the urge and pinpointed its source: domination, proclamation. Erza was his, and he wanted the world to know.

He did his best to push that out and focus on more pressing matters. "Will you help Erza prepare for the Vault?"

Sienna slowed. "What?"

He licked his lips, tasting scotch and cigarettes. "She's going in to get Celia out."

"Madam will _never_ let—"

"She will," Jellal said.

"Jellal—"

"She will, Sienna." And that scared him. "She will because she wants Erza. There was already a price on her head because she knows Erza took Adisa. She probably thinks she had something to do with Eli, too. If Erza walks into the Vault looking to buy, Madam Genève is going to think one of two things: she has collateral against Julian, or she can sway Erza to swap sides." He was gambling, putting all of his money on Madam's greed and pride, believing that she'd rather have a crowning jewel than slave. If only he wasn't so worried about his track record concerning bets. He couldn't afford a bad one tonight. "Can you just help dress her? Do her hair? Make her look convincing?"

Sienna stood and turned on his lap so they were face-to-face. She stopped grinding so she could look at him in that concerned way she had. "I don't want Erza going to her death. I don't want to be the last one to dress her for it either."

 _For her death_. Leave it to Sienna to voice the things he didn't dare think. "I suppose if you won't, I could do it." He knew what Madam liked after all. "I was just hoping to have a woman's touch."

Sienna hesitated.

The door opened. Erza stepped out looking frazzled, Julian behind her looking like the cat that ate the canary. Jellal's dislike for him spiked, though he couldn't say precisely _why_.

Julian said, "Sienna, take Miss Scarlet and dress her to impress tonight. She's paying a social visit to the Vault. Use whatever you have to. Natalie has some nice jewellery, and a few dresses that would be appropriate for the occasion."

Sienna's face fell. Jellal thought she'd speak out, but she did not, not against Julian. "Yes, Mr. York."

He stepped aside and waved them into his personal room. Sienna led the way. Jellal crushed out his cigarette, downed his scotch, then stood to follow the two girls. He hesitated at the exit, a knock on the casino door holding him up.

Julian raised his brow. "I suspect that's Nolan with Miss Vander's answer."

 _Vander._ Jellal was taken back a few nights ago to Noir's hallway. "Dee Vander is one of Madam's allies."

"Yes, an illusion mage of significant power." Julian explained. "I hope he brings good news; I'd hate to kill her." He tugged open the door and revealed the man with the bulldog's saggy face. Standing behind him was a dark skinned woman with short hair and darkly lined eyes.

"Miss Vander." Julian sounded genuinely surprised. "I wasn't expecting you personally."

"You make it hard for a woman to say no, Julian," Dee Vander drawled. "I wanted you to see my face so you'd know it." She stepped past him with an authoritative clack of her heels and went right to Julian's couch without being asked. She poured herself a glass of scotch and sipped, then flopped down, as graceful as a lounging cat.

"Help yourself," Julian said with forced politeness. He noticed that Sienna, Erza and Jellal still stood there. "Leave, and don't disturb us. When you're finished, take them out the other way, Sienna."

"Yes, Mr. York." Despite her skimpy clothing, or lack thereof, Sienna walked from the room with as much dignity as Jellal would expect from one Madam trained so thoroughly. He followed her and a blushing Erza. The door closed, blocking out the sounds of Julian's business-like tone as he addressed his guests. Jellal half-wished he was sitting in on the conversation, curious to know if one of Madam's allies had really turned her back on her. What did that mean if it were true? Was the woman soon to be completely defenseless? _Or is Dee Vander lying?_ And if _that_ were the case, they should kill her now. Who needed a skilled illusionist working against them?

Jellal walked past a giant mirror on Julian's wall. His reflection turned without his permission and whispered, "You're just trying to think of ways to justify killing her."

Jellal did absolutely _everything_ he could not to look at his reflected image. Focusing on Erza in her blue dress sure helped draw his mind in toward other things. Like how she was very shortly going to be _out_ of that dress. How he had every intention of watching it all, greedy to the last.

"Have a seat, Jellal. You too, Erza. I'll find something." Sienna waved vaguely to a vintage style loveseat redder than overripe raspberries. Jellal sat; Erza fell in beside him, close enough that their hips touched. Sienna continued on into the room, stepping into a giant walk in closet. She disappeared from view.

Alone, Jellal took the opportunity to ask, "You're really okay to do this?"

"I'll be fine."

He didn't know why he expected her to say anything else. "It's getting late. Maybe tomorrow..." The moon was drooping on the horizon, all but bowing to the sun.

Erza saw Jellal's words for what they were: he didn't want her to go. She poked her chin out stubbornly. "Hopefully it'll work to our advantage. It's so late, Genève's probably thinking that we're not going to bother trying anything tonight. Also, with any luck, all of her people will be feeling careless, tired after a long night's work."

Jellal wasn't confident with that. "She always keeps her guards fresh." So no undesirables snuck in and ruined her reputation.

Erza tucked that information away, wishing that she herself was more alert. It had been a long, adrenaline-fueled evening. She would be more than happy enough to slip between a pair of crisp sheets and close her eyes. Jellal touched a lock of her hair and brought it away from her face so she could look at him unencumbered. He looked unsure of the action, though she'd done nothing to make him feel insecure. _Other than draw a sword on him and press it against his neck._ She'd been so worried he'd continue with his assault on Haya. _And what would you have done?_ Maybe nothing. Maybe something awful.

It wasn't even worth thinking about.

Reading her expression, Jellal took in a deep, fortifying breath. "Do you not want me to touch you?"

She searched his eyes. "I was only thinking… I'm sorry for drawing my sword earlier."

His throat bobbed. "It's fine, Erza."

She could see that it wasn't. It rattled him almost as much as it rattled her. She was never one to flog the dog, though. "Julian told me that he wants Genève brought back here alive."

It was strange for Jellal to hear her name announced with no _Madam_ before it. Everyone gave her that respect, whore or not, slave or not, except for her equals. He smiled, a small, weak thing. Erza was better than Madam of course, and she would know that. _It's only you that bows to her._ And Sienna, he supposed. Old habits died messily; he didn't think it was likely to change any time soon. She would remain ' _Madam_.' Maybe forever. He wondered if, when she was frail and slicked in red, he could see her for what she really was: just a woman with too much money, too much clout and an aptitude for making people do the things she wanted. Some said it was magic, the way she coerced. Some said she was just very, very good at swindling. Some said it was her beauty. The men, the women, they all liked Madam. Even when she was being horrible. They all begged and begged. _No. That's just you. Everyone else has enough sense to run._

"Jellal?" Erza touched his face, forcing him to look at her, not blankly at the wall over her shoulder while he grinded his teeth in a menacing way.

Jellal blinked thrice, focusing on Erza's dark eyes. For a moment they were as red as her hair, seeping blood. He closed his eyes and pushed the image from his mind, dubbing the hallucination a product of exhaustion. Again he voiced his concern. "Tomorrow would be better—"

"I'm going tonight," Erza said definitively. "I won't leave Eli's sister to suffer another minute. The question is, if I can get Genève tonight, can you withhold killing her?"

Sienna came out of the closet just then, interrupting Jellal's reply. She hustled to their seat, still as scantily clad as before, holding aloft a skin-tight dress the green of jade. Imbedded in the fabric were jewels that glittered like diamond. Erza refused to entertain the idea that they were real. How ostentatious. The skirt was long, falling to her ankles, but there was a long and wide slit in the front that would show off the entirety of one leg, almost all the way to her hip.

"Do you like it?"

"It's beautiful," Erza said honestly. "Natalie won't mind my wearing it?"

"Of course not. Even if it gets ruined, Julian had three more made for her. One red, one white and one black. The black one is my favorite. It has rubies instead, but Madam likes green almost as much as she likes red." Sienna got a bit of a faraway look on her face. Jellal knew what she was remembering. Fingernails, darkly painted, sliding through her long hair. _Magnifique._

 _Soon Erza will know what it's like, too._ The thought came so viciously hard the wind was knocked from Jellal's lungs. It took him three tries to suck in a breath. _She won't be hers. She won't._ He would do everything in his power to make sure that never ever happened.

Sienna stretched out her hand, beckoning Erza to stand. Erza got to her feet by herself. Jellal thought she'd take the dress and disappear into the washroom to dress herself, too, after everything that happened that night.

Erza looked over her shoulder, finding his gaze. He read her thoughts as clearly as Eli might: she didn't want to leave him. She grabbed the hem of her dress and lifted it up over her body in one smooth motion. She was shockingly bare, with absolutely nothing beneath. The peaks of her breasts were hard, and the skin on her belly raised in goose bumps. Her neck was slightly flushed with nervousness and excitement. She liked being the center of attention. He knew that before, but he thought it was something that extended only to dressing scantily to make her fans sweat. Apparently not. He was back to being harder than stone in seconds. It wasn't fair, the effect she had on him. And he wasn't the only one. Sienna could barely take her eyes away.

' _She's so pretty when you make her come_.' He grabbed himself and squeezed, unable to help it.

Nothing escaped Sienna's attention. "Poor Jellal. I think you like making him suffer, Erza." She undid the back of the green dress, getting it ready.

Noticing what Sienna did, Erza's cheeks went redder than before. "I..."

Sienna leaned in and kissed her squarely on the mouth. Erza did nothing for two beats, then returned the kiss until Sienna was moaning and reaching for her and Jellal was stroking himself through his pants, all of the blood rushing from his head. Then she broke away. Sienna tried to come back, but Erza brushed her hands aside. "We should stop."

"We just got started," Sienna rebutted. She reached around and grabbed Erza's behind.

"There are things I have to do tonight." Erza's voice was uneven. Maybe her words were true, but she was also still unsure about this.

Sienna touched Erza's clavicle lightly and traced all the way down, between her breasts. "I think you like making me suffer, too."

Erza flushed. "No, Genève—" She trailed off, eyes flitting closed when Sienna got to her hardened nipple, skimming over it, then coming back to pinch. Jellal's breath came faster.

Sienna said, "Don't go to her, Erza. It's not worth it."

The sultry, lazy look fell out of Erza's eyes. "I have to."

"No, you don't, not really. Please," Sienna begged. "She'll—"

Erza cut in. "I'm in a position to act. I must. My conscience won't allow for anything else."

"Madam ruins everything," Sienna said. "She'll want to ruin you, too. Just stay here where it's safe. I know Julian won't ask you to go, not if you say you don't want to."

Jellal let go of his erection, sensing that this encounter wasn't going to end the way his fantasies wanted it to. "Erza is right. We do have to go, and tonight is as good as any. It's coming down to now or never."

Sienna gripped the dress tightly.

"She'll be dead by the time I'm through, Sienna," Jellal said. "You won't have to be afraid of her anymore."

Sienna's lip warbled. "I'm safe here. We're all safe here—"

Jellal shook his head. "No. But you will be."

Erza took the dress from Sienna's shaking hands and stepped into it, drawing it up over her body. It fit snugly, her breasts just a little larger than Natalie's, her hips just a touch wider. "Do my hair for me, Sienna."

The girl bit her lips together, but Erza's commanding tone seemed to percolate through her panic. "Yes." She disappeared into the bathroom.

Jellal stood and went to Erza, drawing up the zipper at the back of her dress. "She's scared, Erza, don't think badly of her." He was a bit too honest. "For most of our lives, no one has been more of a terror than Madam Genève. Sienna is still reticent to challenge her." It must have been terrible, waking up one morning to realize that her childhood horror had come back to life.

Erza softened, her shoulders relaxing. "Neither of you will have anything to fear soon."

Jellal kissed her bare shoulder, once, twice, and scraped his teeth over her skin, thinking of ways to answer. _'I'm afraid of nothing_?' She knew that was a lie. "There will always be something to fear in this world." He thought only of himself.

Erza tipped her head to the side, giving him better access. In this moment, she wasn't afraid of him. It made him hope that maybe he could be greater than a sum of his parts. It started with Genève's death, though, regardless of what Julian wanted. Or Erza, for that matter.

* * *

It had gotten significantly colder. Wind bullied its way through the trees, letting the world know in no uncertain terms that autumn was absolutely coming. It would take weeks for the trees to truly brighten, but the shift was undeniable. Jellal looked forward to it. No more brutal days sweating inside his cloak, covering his face. As soon as he thought that, his mind wandered. _You won't have to hide in Innisfil_. In a city of sinners, his crimes were still great, but he could surround himself with men and women who also carried a heavy burden.

 _Julian said..._

He bit his tongue until it hurt. _Stop thinking about it._ He looked at Erza instead, as he always seemed to do when he was feeling a little bit lost and a lot not moral. Sienna had twisted her hair into curls, pinned it against her head with bobby pins, then sprayed the whole thing with some substance that glittered in the light of the waning moon, almost as brightly as the diamond in her dress, as the diamonds hanging from her ears, and the diamonds in the necklace around her throat. Everything was Natalie's. She looked good, but Erza was a girl that should be in black or red. Both together. Wet blood and dark shadows and—

He recognized the coming manic and erected a wall to keep it out. It was full of holes, it's foundation rotted. He clenched his fist hard and forced himself to think about other things.

"When you go in, be wary, Erza. She has more guards than just the ones you've met. I don't know if she'll have any more mages, but you'll need to watch for guns. And knives." His favorite thing.

"Yes." She sounded more patient than she actually felt.

Jellal took in an uneven breath. "I'll be nearby, waiting in the rose gardens." They were as good a place as any. "I'll be able to hear any shouts or anything from there." Unless she went into the soundproof room. "Don't let Celia bring you into any of the rooms, Erza. One of them is an anti magic room. Or maybe all of them. Madam probably won't want to cause a scene, but that doesn't mean that once you're alone she won't do whatever she can—"

"Jellal," Erza said firmly. "I'll be okay."

"Of course, but—"

She drew up short and spun on him. Jellal immediately thought it was to dig into him, but he was wrong. Her mouth pressed into his, silencing him more thoroughly than any words might. "Tell me you love me."

Except for _those_ words. "I love you."

"Then I have nothing to worry about."

That was a blatant lie. He was gearing up to go through all of the ways she could run into trouble when he realized that they'd reached their destination. The Vault looked as ostentatious as ever, the gardens glowing, the roses blooming out of season, mica walkway glaringly bright. The anxiety was back full-force. It was a different Vault than the one he remembered, but Madam was in every cranny.

Erza seemed to sense his discord and kissed him again. "Don't be afraid. Remember, if you're mine, you can be no one else's."

Right.

"I'll return before you know it."

Of course. He didn't want to let her go. Looking over her shoulder, he saw that there was no one watching the comings and goings of guests. Did that mean that there was no one making sure undesirables stayed clear? Maybe not. Maybe it would be easy. "Be safe."

Erza kissed him again. "You, too."

And then she was gone, up the pathway and through the Vault's heavy wooden doors. The light bled out across the lawn, then disappeared, taking Erza with it.

Jellal took in a deep, stabilizing breath, and found his way to the gardens, slipping between the roses' sharp brambles. He wished there were windows to see inside the Vault, but he was reduced to imagining what was happening inside. Dark things. Everything from Erza stepping into hidden knives and bleeding messily on the floor to her being taken prisoner and forced to do things she would never, ever do to people she would never, ever do them with. Madam would only sell her to the most perverse, thinking that was a fitting punishment for Adisa's disappearance.

The wind blew, bringing to him the scent of jasmine and rose water. Her perfumes were as pungent as ever. Blinking brought her into focus, leaning against the Vault's exterior wall, watching him. The fading moon made her hair look silver, not its customary gold. She'd found the skin of a very red fox to wrap around her shoulders, the colour one she would most enjoy.

 _Magnifique._


	27. Chapter 27

"You're looking rather beautiful this evening," Jellal said as soon as he was sure his voice would come out evenly, because that's what he'd been trained to say. And then there was the fact that it was true. Only Erza was more beautiful than Madam Genève, but they were very similar in many ways. Both women were stunning, both voluptuous, and both had honed the ability to not only strike him dumb, but cleave him in two with just a look.

"Your flattery is most welcomed, mon chéri. It makes me glad I left you the gift I did, it'll serve as an excellent reminder." She stepped from the shadow and into the light of the moon. Then into his personal space.

Knowing that she was trying to unsettle him, Jellal squared his shoulders. "Gift?"

"It's a surprise," she replied in a sing-song voice.

Jellal did everything in his power to remain unaffected when her arms went up around his neck and her body rested against his, supple, soft, breasts nearly heaving out of her tight black dress. To help, he imagined himself as a heavy boulder in a turbulent river, unmovable. Except, with the right amount of force, even those centuries' old rock could be swept away. _No._

"Is this your way of trying to be brave after our last meeting?" He looked to her neck and felt a wave of pleasure at seeing his hand print memorialized there in the form of a bruise.

"Trying to be brave? How sweet." She caressed his face. "You think you're untouchable now, a man, no longer the boy beneath whoever's sheets. You've taken lives, known sorrow, made people hurt, had their very lives in your hands and snuffed it out. You expect everyone to treat you as such."

"Yes, I do," Jellal replied. "You especially. After all, I made a special trip back to Innisfil to give you the same treatment." He hated how much he had to grit his teeth to sound convincing.

She looked up at him with wide, doe-like eyes. "Do you want me to say you frighten me? Is that the game you like to play now? I will admit, it has been many years since I've played submissive, but for you, I could try."

His throat got small. Between his legs got tight. "The only thing I want is for you to die."

Her smile burned itself in his mind. "Truly?" She wriggled one arm between them and grabbed his stiffness. " _Menteur_. The only thing you want is to fuck me. And on your own terms. Isn't that right?"

Maybe he was a liar. He grabbed her wrist to stop her skilled thumb from massaging the head of his cock. "Kill, fuck. Sometimes, the urge is synonymous. You taught me that, don't you remember? When I would come home cut chin to naval because someone got just a little too rough?"

She grinned. "You always had a fondness for blood, Jellal. I was just giving you what you didn't know you wanted."

 _Creating a monster._ Her hand had started moving again; Jellal realized his hold had slipped. He released her so he could grab his knife. _I can do this._ The handle felt harder than stone in his cold grasp. He looked at her throat for fortification. The bruise was black and purple. "You're right. I did always have a fondness for blood. I've dreamed about yours, Madam. Wetting my fingers and soaking into the grass. So I'm really going to try to take my time and enjoy it."

* * *

Erza expected there to be some resistance as she walked into the Vault, but there was not even a guard to look her over twice. At least, none that she could see. Even when she opened the door and stepped onto the mosaic floor, there was no one in the wide room, no customers, no guards, just empty couches. On the coffee table in the center of the room was a pot of tea and a plate overladen with biscuits. Erza walked to it cautiously and touched the tea pot. It was scalding hot.

"Hello," said a gentle, melodic voice.

Erza looked up, startled, and met the speaker's eyes. A young girl dressed only in a robe. Her hair was so blonde, it nearly looked white, her eyes so blue, they were as sapphires. Her cheeks were just slightly chubby, branding her a child, while her breasts belied her age. However, anyone looking would realize she was still underdeveloped. Erza put her between eleven and thirteen, though a lot had been done to make her look older. "Are you Celia?"

"Yes. And you are Erza. The tea is for you." She came over and started pouring a cup, the robes she wore shushing gently with every move she made. Silk, Erza realized, the finest she'd ever seen, light golden peach in colour.

"I don't want any tea, thank you." Erza did a once over of the room again. They were alone in the Vault. No sound made it to her ears. If they were being monitored, the people did a very, very good job at remaining discreet.

"Everyone wants tea before they partake in pleasure," Celia said. "It's been fortified to enhance the experience." She'd practiced the speech, said all the right words, but they still came out of her mouth woodenly. Erza's heart fractured some.

"With drugs?"

"With the best drugs." Celia glanced at the Vault's door. Seeing the coast was clear, she took a gulp of the tea that was meant for Erza. Her eyes fluttered closed, lashes light on her skin. She looked like she was praying. Or begging. Begging for the dullness whatever was in the tea could offer.

Erza's heart broke some more. "You don't have to do that, Celia. No one has come to buy you tonight. I'm here to save you."

"Save me?" Celia shook her head. "There isn't any saving. I—I love it here at the Vault. This is my home." She said _those_ words like she'd practiced as well. But maybe there was some truth to them. Whatever it was Genève did to keep her people here, she did it well.

"You don't have to say that stuff for me." Erza held out her hand. "Come, we'll take you some place safe." _Where_ were the guards? _Why_ hadn't anyone tried to stop her? Or even came out to say ' _Hey, you know you can't take this girl away?'_

"Where is everyone, Celia? The guards? The…" It seemed tactless to call them whores while Celia was standing right there. "The workers?"

The girl dropped her already glossy eyes. "Punished. Or missing."

Erza thought she knew what _missing_ meant. "Come. I'm going to take you to your brother."

Celia's blue eyes became slightly more alert. "Eli?"

"Yes."

"Madam said that he left me here." The most tragic bit was that she didn't even sound _mad_ , like she could fathom why he would ever want to do such a thing. Maybe it was just the drug making her lethargic.

Erza reached for the girl's hand. Celia went as stiff as a stick on contact. The redhead half expected her to pull away. "That woman is a liar. Eli told me where to find you. he's really looking forward to seeing you again." That was a stretch, Erza had no idea what went on behind Eli's sour façade, but she had to _assume._

Celia hesitated. There was a faint glimmer of hope behind her eyes, but she was tentative to allow it any room to grow. "Is he really waiting?"

"Yes," Erza affirmed. "With a man named Julian York at his casino, Gomorrah. You'll be safe there." As strange as it seemed to say, Erza believed that. Or… at least, she believed that Celia would be _safer_. "Come on now, before we miss our opportunity." How much longer would they just be able to walk out? Already Erza was feeling twitchy. She'd feel better if there were bullets or knives or swords coming her way. But there was only quiet, and the brushing of silk against silk. And the click of her high heels against the floor. For a moment she lamented the effort she took in getting dressed. She didn't even have to fool anyone. _Because you were expected. Because this has to be a trap. Because you're going to walk out of that door and there is going to be an ambush because Eli betrayed you or Julian betrayed you or_

Any number of people, really. The list could be long and colourful if Erza allowed for it. She wasn't really in the mood.

Walking quickly, she magicked a sword out of thin air and grabbed it in her suddenly sweaty palm. She held it tight, willing the hilt not to slide in her grip, especially if she needed it.

No one stopped her coming over the floor, or out of the door, or even in the pathway out there in the open night. No one had to, though, for Erza heard the familiar sound of choking and stopped all on her own, heart in her throat.

* * *

As he thought, grabbing Madam's throat and choking her was easier the second time around. She didn't even fight him, perhaps _still_ believing that he'd never follow through with it. Jellal held her with everything he had, her chest against his so he could feel her breath fluttering. As he squeezed, he thought of all the ways he hated her, of all the things she'd done to make his life misery. All of the ways she'd broken him down, made him feel worthless, sowed the seeds of monstrousness. All of the abuse. Thirteen didn't seem like such a long time ago as he stared into her eyes. Every lashing, every bruise, every kiss and caress, they all felt brand-new and _right there_ for him to recall.

At some point, she stopped believing that he was going to let up. The moment the fear came into her eyes, Jellal stowed the image away for future revisits. It was a memory that would lull him to sleep and invade his most twisted thoughts. It would take his most perverse dreams and make them so much better.

"I am going to remember this for a very, very long time," he promised. "If I make it to when I'm old, if everyone abandons me and I have nothing, this will sustain me through my darkest nights, Madam Genève. This is all I'll ever need." And in that moment, it was absolutely true. When Erza realized that he was lost and abandoned him, when Crime Sorciere either died for their sins or found retribution, when everyone he'd ever touched realized that he was poison… "This will be what warms my bed."

Arms wrapped around his body, squeezing him tight. Hands closed around his wrists. "Let her go, Jellal."

Erza's voice wasn't enough to punch through all of his hate. He was so _focused_. He was so _close._ He redoubled his efforts and watched Madam's eyes bulge.

"Jellal, please," Erza said again. Though the situation was reaching urgency—how long until Genève's throat just collapsed?—Erza did all that she could, squeezing his wrists hard enough that she felt the tendons protest and reefed on his arms. It was like he didn't feel it, unmovable as he was.

Jellal said, "Every time you've sold me, every dollar you've made on my suffering and everyone else's, I'm going to pay it back tenfold before you die." If only he had Eli's power, he would make her live through every memory, feel his fear and his rage and _know the monster._

Erza thought Jellal was letting Genève go, and he _was_ releasing her neck to reach into his pocket. Yet it was with too much intent. Before he withdrew the knife, she knew what he was going for. Her heart sank. _The cost for Jellal's life…_

The knife came out, looking silver and sharp. Genève saw the blade and started to writhe weakly, her fingernails digging into Jellal's arm. She made a noise of protest, her legs buckling with fear and oxygen deprivation. Jellal looked like he was savouring the sound. _He's really going to do it,_ Erza realized. _Right here in front of me and Celia. He's going to cut her open. He's going to kill her._

Erza grabbed his wrist and fought to get the knife away from him. He shook her off like she was nothing, singular in his purpose. Erza came back and grabbed at him again. Her jarring knocked the knife away from Genève's neck and forced it into her shoulder. She screamed. So did Jellal. His was one of animalistic pleasure. Erza understood; Jellal had been thinking about this for so long. He didn't think he could do it. And now he had drawn blood. Seeing his demon so mortal…

He was suddenly more vicious than before, yanking Genève back in for another slice. Erza caught herself trying to close her eyes. She didn't _want_ to see what Jellal was going to do with that knife. She didn't _want_ to know what his killer's face looked like all over again. She left _that_ Jellal in the Tower of Heaven. He was supposed to stay there.

Erza was still uselessly paralyzed. For all of her ineptitude, the knife never found a home in Genève's body. A slight shadow appeared to Jellal's left and hefted a large rock. It hit Jellal on the side of the head hard enough that he just crumpled. Genève followed him, coughing so roughly that she gagged. The knife skidded away beneath a thick tangle of roses. It could rot and rust there for all Erza cared. Panting like she'd run a race, though in truth she'd done not much of anything, Erza faced Jellal's attacker and was startled to see Celia. The girl quivered, her cheeks wet with tears.

"I had to," she was muttering. "He was going to kill her. He was going to—and I couldn't watch."

Erza swiped her hair away impatiently when the wind grabbed it and looked at the mess they'd made. Genève was still immobilized. In her armoury, Erza found a length of rope and used it to tie the woman's hands together. She gave the tag end to Celia. "If she runs, tug her back."

Celia looked at the rope in her hand like it was a poisonous snake. "I don't want to."

"It's either that or she tastes my sword in her back," Erza said threateningly. The girl sobered and held the rope tight while Erza went for Jellal. How many times was she going to have to carry him back into Gomorrah? Already it was too many. At least now he wasn't half dead, just unconscious. When he woke, he was going to have a goose egg and a migraine. He would be alright, though. _Physically, anyway_ , she thought bitterly. Never before had she felt more helpless.

Diligently, Erza magicked away her dress and found her favorite armour, not for strength but for comfort. Her Giant's Armour was still bent to hell. There would be no getting into that for added strength. Jellal was as heavy as she feared, and totally limp, too. It was like carrying a disagreeable sack of sand. It took a lot of effort to get him over her shoulders, and forcing her legs to stand and then to lock was a bit torturous, but she did it, relying on willpower to carry her through the streets.

Genève walked stiltedly at her side, Celia holding the rope that bound her. She didn't try to run, but she did offer a bit of advice and a warning. "I will walk out of Julian York's casino a free woman, mon beau, more powerful than before. And when I do, I'm going to hang you on my wall like an ornament so you can watch Jellal do all of the things that's haunted his dreams for the last thirteen years. And then I'll make him do worse. You'll beg for a knife to cut the throat of the miserable creature he'll become. And when I deny that, you'll beg for me to cut yours instead."

Erza did her best to ignore the woman's words. They had a way of percolating through, though, and setting her skin on fire. In that moment, she wished she hadn't gotten in Jellal's way. Sometimes, people just didn't deserve mercy. Like this leech who had tormented Jellal for so many years of his life.

She felt her hand clench on her sword and recognized the place her thoughts were going. She took a deep breath, pacifying herself by thinking that this arrangement was only temporary. "If you step foot out of whatever hole Julian is going to throw you in, I will be there, waiting to cut you down."

Genève's smile was genuine. "I look forward to it."

* * *

Several things were wrong. His head was splitting and he was acutely aware of a sick sense of humiliation and frustration and fear. Opening his eyes was abnormally hard. A cool hand rested on his brow. A memory surged in Jellal's mind: Standing in the moonlight, looking Madam Genève right in the eye. And then choking her. And then… reaching for his knife. And nothing.

He smelled her perfume—rosewater. Lavender—and he thought for certain when his eyes finally _did_ open, he would be looking at a ceiling adorned with black roses, arranged there and changed every single day so they never wilted. _I'm hers again. I lost._ His heart was heavy.

 _No. I won't allow for it._ He'd rather die. He'd do what he hadn't been able to do when he was a child. He'd take anything he could to complete the task, a knife, a gun, a bucket of water or a swim in Scarlet Lake. He'd take so much Silver he'd overdose. Or he'd drink so much he'd drown on his own vomit. He'd do anything. He started thrashing, trying desperately to get away from that hand.

"Sh. You're okay."

His eyes finally cracked open. Light poured in, too bright, too harsh. He saw her silhouette and convinced his body that it _could_ push her off.

She grabbed his wrists. "Sh. Jellal, stop fighting. You're alright. You're safe. Sh. Look at me."

Jellal summoned his strength and his magic, feeling like a caged animal. "Release me." Was that his voice? Rough and crackly like paint left to weather and chip?

She did no such thing, getting closer instead. "Sh. You're okay. Look at me."

As if her words held power, he slowly refocused. The colour of scarlet had never looked so soothing. "Erza." Soon, he could see more than just her curtain of hair. Her eyes, brown and calming, not cold blue quartz.

"Yes." Satisfied he wasn't going to attack her, she released his wrists so she could brush his hair back from his forehead. "Are you alright?"

"My head hurts. And… I'm confused." He was on a bed, looking up at a very white ceiling. _Gomorrah._

She pressed her lips together and nodded. "I carried you back to Gomorrah because Celia hit you with a rock."

"Celia? Why?" His first thought was, _'Did Eli tell her to somehow?'_

Erza explained, "…You were going to kill Genève, and she was afraid. Don't be angry with her."

Saying ' _don't be angry'_ didn't actually _do_ anything to quell the sudden violence he felt. His blood pressure spiked, as did his headache. "Where is she?"

Erza looked at him warily. "Celia or Genève?"

Jellal only stared at her, trying to figure that out for himself.

Erza said, "Celia is with Eli. Julian's given them some time alone. Well, sort of. He's got one of his guards there. You know, one of the ones with more muscle than brain cells."

Jellal didn't crack a smile, in no mood for jokes.

Erza hustled along. "And Genève… She's confined in a room in Gomorrah and has been for the whole day. She won't answer any questions and Eli wants to see you first before he agrees to go digging through that woman's head."

"See me? Why?"

Erza shrugged. "He won't say that either. Julian is less than impressed with him."

Eli was just the type to press his boundaries when he thought he had the upper hand. "Very well. I thought Julian would have taken her to Noir, not Gomorrah, the more public of the two..."

"He was going to, but he thought there was less of a chance of an outburst if she was here amongst all these people trying to save face."

Jellal ran his tongue over his lips. They were drier than parchment. "Have you ever known a fox to be kind when its cornered? We should kill her now." He started to rise.

Erza pushed on his shoulder, forcing him right back down onto the bed again. "Just relax."

Still woozy, Jellal didn't do much to resist her but said, "Please, Erza. Let me up. I must take care of this—while I can. She won't go quietly." It was amazing that she'd even come to Gomorrah at all. She had people all over the city looking out for her wellbeing. At least, she used to. it wasn't likely much had changed.

Erza shook her head firmly. "No, Jellal. You just need to rest. You've been through a lot, but it's over now."

"If you believe that, you're a fool," Jellal hissed, redirecting his anger at her. Erza got a very dangerous look on her face. Jellal withstood it, too angry, too dumb in that moment, to care very much. "Let me up so I can do what needs to be done." _The rough work._ Crazy hung at the edges of his mind, encroaching with little effort.

"I told you to _relax_ ," Erza replied tautly.

"You're afraid, but Erza, you won't have anything else to fear when she's gone," Jellal mumbled manically. "Just let me go. I'll put a knife through her heart and she'll never _be_ again."

Her dangerous fury suddenly vanished. Erza squeezed his hand and brought it to her lips. Her eyes were wet. "Jellal… It's not Genève that I fear. It's you."

Her words were totally sobering. The singularity his thoughts held fell away. _Me._ "I would never hurt you."

She looked at him sadly. "You would never mean to hurt me." The Tower of Heaven didn't feel so long ago.

"Erza…" With the breath gone from his lungs, her name was a weak warble. "I thought you trusted me?"

Hurt flashed behind her eyes. "I trust you, Jellal, when you're yourself. But right now is not one of those times."

Being chest punched felt better than this. "She's evil, Erza. Wicked. Wanting her dead doesn't make me suddenly insane." _Right_? "I'm not that person anymore."

Erza shook her head. "It's the obsession, Jellal. You need this, or so you've convinced yourself."

"I told you what she did—"

"I understand. She's tortured you, humiliated you, taken advantage of you when you had no one. She's done so many wrongs, and for that, like you, I want her to suffer. Yet, I'm afraid that it's not her misdeeds in particular that get under your skin, but the need for blood. Anyone's. Everyone's."

Jellal pressed his hands into his temples and breathed as deeply as he could manage, feeling like he was a balloon cut loose of its thread. "Erza, you _know_ that's not… it's not the case. I'm not that person anymore." Like repeating it would make it somehow true.

She touched his cheek and forced him to look at her. "I want to believe you more than anything. Just stay with me here for a bit, Jellal. Relax."

He took his hands away from his temples and studied her, looking for a liar, someone to be furious with. _Myself?_ He should have killed Genève _before_ he was interrupted. Or he should have waited, so Erza didn't think he was such a lunatic. Or he should have hidden it. Scarlet Lake would have kept his secrets.

 _"Are those the thoughts of a sane man?_ "

Jellal _refused_ to acknowledge his talking reflection in the mirrored ceiling above. _Refused._ In his best _'I'm sane'_ voice, he said, "Fine, Erza. But I warned you. She won't be silent. She's planning something." She had to be.

"We'll worry about that if it comes to be." She caressed his cheek, seemingly pacified, and stood from her perch on the mattress. Using magic was her favorite way to undress. When the light faded, she wore a whiter than cloud silk gown that was short on her thighs and low cut. Jellal only glanced at her briefly, ashamed of himself and his poisoned thoughts.

"Won't you look at me?" Erza asked. Being ignored was one of her most hated things.

"Not while you believe I've lost my mind." _Not while I'm wondering myself._

"Don't be like that," Erza said in a no-nonsense tone. "I told you I loved you and I meant it. Regardless of this... demon you carry."

Love. What did that mean and how far did it go? How much could Erza bend her rigid-like-steel morals? He looked at her from the corner of his eye and got it in his head that he _thought_ he knew where all of this was coming from. "I've never needed anyone's sympathy."

"Is that what you think this is?" Her voice was as sharp as a razor. "I wish some days that I didn't love you, Jellal. That way I could have walked away from the Tower with a clear conscience. But I grieved for months thinking you were dead until Zero and Wendy brought you back again. Then I thought I was going to lose you with your half-brained idea to take care of Nirvana. You being in prison? I couldn't stop worrying, though I suppose at least then the only threats there were the guards.

"It's been so hard to get away from you, but even harder to get you near. I woke every day after Tenrou thanking every god I could think of that you weren't killed during those seven years we were apart; did you know that? You have such a talent for taking your life so carelessly in your hands, after all. And then this. Innisfil. It's been the worst here, I've had a front-row seat to all of the ways you care so little about your life. It's been torturous, so don't say that I love you out of pity. What I feel is too real for that."

He was quiet for so long, Erza wondered if she'd insulted him. Then she thought, _good_. Someone needed to challenge Jellal every now and again, no one else ever did.

"I don't know why we can never stay away from each other, Erza. Every time we're together… one of us just ends up getting hurt." And by _one of us,_ they both knew he meant her.

"Let's stop hurting each other then," she said softly. "I don't want to be pulled apart anymore, not by anything."

It was disorienting how much she could love him, how much he loved her. The mattress was as silent as ever, sagging beneath her weight as she climbed not only onto the bed but overtop of him, too, straddling his legs. Jellal told himself to relax, to not obsess over her words ( _It's the blood)._ It was the only way to feel half-sane and unashamed. She kissed him using first just her lips, and then her tongue, brushing over his mouth, seeking access. Jellal opened reluctantly, unsure if he was interested in this kind of treatment in that moment.

He was a fool, of course. Erza was always the perfect drug. She knew how to lift him up from the deepest pit and reinforce his crumbling walls. He was straining against his clothing in no time and she'd only pressed her body against his and fisted her fingers in his shirt. Despite his migraine, he grabbed her by the hips and arched into her. She took her mouth away enough to whisper, "Let me lead."

That was well enough, his head was splitting.

Nimble fingers made quick work of his shirt and the button of his pants. She pushed aside the former and tugged down the latter so he was half undressed on both parts. Seemingly satisfied, she grabbed the hem of her nighty and lifted it up over her head in a smooth motion. Her breasts came out, full, skin luminous in Gomorrah's light. Even with all of the scars, from battles, from the slavers, she was perfect.

Forgetting her request, he reached for her again. Erza seized him by the wrist. It was painful, there were cuts and bruises there from when she tried to stop his choking of Madam, but Jellal almost thought he liked the pain. He was sure a second later when Erza popped his finger into her mouth and sucked, taking it all the way into her mouth and massaging it with her silky tongue. Jellal got harder, imagining the same treatment elsewhere.

Seeming to read his mind, she let him go so she could readjust, turning around and backing up so he could pleasure her at the same time. Jellal's migraine went into the background, forgotten as soon as Erza's lips met his hard shaft. He tipped his hips, unable to help it, and found the back of her throat. She let him stay there for as long as he wanted, though surely she couldn't breathe. He relaxed, sort of satiated, and allowed Erza to find her own rhythm while he found his as well. In no time she was breathing heavily and moaning. She attempted to take her mouth away. Jellal arched his hips again, wanting to feel everything. She orgasmed with him on her tongue. The feeling travelled all the way through his body, making his headache just a little duller, making everything just a little further away.

As soon as she finished, Erza rose and climbed down the length of his body. Positioning herself, she lowered down on his erection and took him inside. She was hot velvet and pulsing. Jellal closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation. They came open a second later, though, deciding that he'd rather watch Erza in the mirror. Her palms came back to rest on either side of his ribs, her hair tickling his chest, so she looked like a taut bow. The position allowed for him to see everything, the pivot of her hips, the sway of her breasts, the pinking of her skin, the pleasured _O_ her mouth fell into when she found the perfect way to bring herself to her next orgasm. When he wanted something else to look at, he took her silken hair and brushed it aside so he could watch the way her behind smacked down on his body. He grabbed her breast, despite her insistence to do all the work, and squeezed. She sobbed. Then, just to prove that he could, just to prove that she'd _let_ him, he slid his hand through her hair and took her by the neck. Erza hardly stiffened, trusting him. _I can be more than a monster. I can_. She came like that, quivering and almost crying, taking Jellal with her.

Seconds passed. He released her neck and her breast, allowing his hands to find home on her hips. Erza, all of the energy seemingly going out of her, collapsed, laying back flat against his chest. Jellal let her stay there for a few beats, then decided that her hair was suffocating him. Red was all he could see. Grabbing her around the waist, he shifted and turned, following her to her side. He breathed her in. She still smelled like rosewater and jasmine. Like Madam. He had a wildly dark thought that started with, _maybe she tricked me, gave me Illusion and pretended to be Erza,_ and ended with, _maybe this isn't even the real Gomorrah_.

His heart started to beat fast. He forced it to calm, demanding it see reason. "Why do you smell like her?"

"Her?" Erza repeated. Not much liking the tone of his voice, she forced herself to be alert.

Jellal took in a deep breath. "Madam. You—her perfume is on your skin."

Erza curled so she could look into his too-wide eyes. "I had to get close to bring her in, Jellal. I tied her up. That's all."

 _That's all._ His heart slowed.

"I'll shower." She started to rise.

Jellal tightened his hold on her body, bringing her right back to his chest again. "Not yet." He could get past the faint smell for the feel of her skin on his. Being still buried inside of her was a kind of heaven, though he was sure things were getting messy.

She breathed out a sigh. And reached behind herself to find his cheek. "You can always trust me. Even when you don't trust yourself." She corrected, " _Especially_ when."

Jellal kissed her shoulder and held her tighter.

A noise outside on the dark balcony made his back-and-forth euphoria wither. He couldn't name it exactly… other than a low _thump_ of something… limp, but it was enough to make him more than a little wary. He pulled away from Erza and stood, fixing his pants and leaving his shirt open.

"What is it?" Erza asked.

"…I don't know." By the time he was ready to reach for the balcony door, Erza was dressed in her nighty and at his side, reaching with him. Together, they pulled back the sliding glass, letting the brightness of Scarlet Lake seep through. It brought with it the pungent smell of blood.

Jellal found her in the corner of the balcony, splayed out and headless. Even without it, he'd recognize Haya, her Abaya was still sliced open by his knife. Her neck glistened by the lake light, blood like red pearls.

" _Gods,_ " Erza said and swore.

 _'I left you a gift.'_

"I suppose this is it," Jellal said when he could.

" _What_ is it?" Erza rasped.

Jellal didn't reply, attention caught on the something tucked into Haya's hand. Stiffly, he crossed the balcony against Erza's insistence, and took the blood-dotted piece of paper.

Familiar handwriting conveyed, _This is what happens to those that disobey me._

Crushing the paper in his hand wasn't enough retaliation. He stood and spun on his heel. Bloodlust be damned. Erza be damned. Julian and his secrets be _damned._

He welcomed the _Iblis._

* * *

A/N: (sorry I'm so damn late. Writing has been more difficult than usual lately.) I have a secret.

Halloween day. I am publishing a one-shot under my pseudonym, SleeplessComplication. It's a Jerza love fest submission. You should keep your eye out for it and read it ;)


	28. Chapter 28

"Jellal."

He was only slightly aware of Erza tromping along behind him in her small nightdress. She didn't seem to notice her attire, not even her bare feet slapping down the hall, but others did. People stared, those wandering the hallways, those in the casino. And why not? Both of them looked so tousled, Jellal's clothing mostly undone, Erza's mostly off. He could just imagine what all of those strangers were thinking as soon as they saw Madam's mark and his unkemptness. _Whore._ Not just _whore,_ but _her_ whore. Anger tried to rise. He smothered it.

Armed men waited by Julian's personal room. They looked at Jellal, then at Erza but didn't stop them from entering. Jellal saw why as soon as he was inside. It wasn't the high-priority Madam Genève Julian had holed up in here, but Eli, sitting on an armless high-backed chair, ankles cuffed to the wooden legs. And he wasn't alone. Natalie sat on his lap in a very compromising position, no shirt, the bra she wore unclipped at the front, her short skirt up around her hips. She still wore underwear beneath, though Jellal didn't necessarily think that meant Eli wasn't fucking her, especially with the high colour in the girl's cheeks. At his side, Erza let out a strangled cry, one that mimicked Natalie's. It was obvious the brunette hadn't been expecting company. It took seconds for her to assert that neither Jellal nor Erza were the person she thought they were, (Julian, Jellal suspected), but her breath still came in short, tight pants. She struggled to rise, scared out of… whatever it was they were doing. Eli had a firm grip on her hips, preventing her from doing that. "Relax."

"Let go of me."

Eli held her tighter. "I told you if he was coming I could hear him. Trust me."

"No, Eli." Natalie wriggled again to no avail. She was getting paler by the second. She met Jellal's eyes. "Is Julian with you? He's coming, isn't he?"

Natalie's panic was so potent, Jellal could taste it. He tagged all of the pieces together—the dread, the circumstances, Natalie's shock and disapproval—and coming to his own conclusion, imagined gutting Eli. Somehow he found the patience to say, "Release her."

Eli shot him a plaintive look. "You're hurting my feelings with those nasty thoughts—especially after I thought we were friends."

"Release her."

"No. We're comfortable. Hey, I was going to say thanks for getting Celia back—"

Jellal was across the room before he realized it, impatient and violent. Eli's throat was in his hand, the airway buckling. "I said to _let her go._ Find some other way to piss off Julian than forcing Natalie to fuck you. _"_

A smart ass to the end, Eli struggled to say, "I don't have to trick girls to put their tits on me, they do it all on—"

Jellal squeezed tight enough to cut off his words; only a faint gurgle came out now.

"Stop it, you're hurting him!" Natalie grabbed his wrist and pulled, fingernails digging in much where Madam's had. He was bleeding; he barely felt it. Eli was choking. And reaching into his head. Jellal blinked and saw himself holding Erza, _restraining_ her while some giant of a man fucked her. That in itself wasn't completely damning, but the cuffs around her chapped wrists were, and the tears on her face. Jellal felt a weight against his neck and realized that it was Madam holding him, her mouth pressed against his ear as she told him exactly what to do to make Erza hurt.

"Stop it! Both of you!" Natalie's voice was commanding, if not far away. "Eli, please. You promised." Seconds later, Eli severed the vision and everything came snapping back into focus.

Jellal panted. His grip on the man's throat wasn't quite so tight now, but he hadn't released him. "That is the last time, Eli." He looked for a knife but didn't have one. He reached for his magic instead, disregarding a cussing Erza gearing herself up for something awful. _Directed at you, or Eli?_

 _The biggest threat._

It was always him.

So be it.

"I said _stop,"_ Natalie repeated.

Eli's face was red and sweaty. He met Jellal's eyes without fear; maybe a hint of regret. It was then Jellal realized that Eli wasn't tormenting him because he _wanted_ to die, but because it seemed they were both helpless to do anything but live up to the moniker Haya had given them both. _Iblis._

 _Do you have to be a slave?_ Jellal didn't know if it was his thought or Eli's.

 _We all have to accept what we are._ The origins of _that_ piece of advice were lost on him as well.

Natalie tried again to push Jellal away. This time she succeeded. Erza wrapped her arms around his chest and stabilized him when he almost fell to the ground.

Natalie turned right back to Eli, brushing her fingers over his swollen throat softly. "Are you okay?"

He didn't reply.

Jellal's disgusted snort earned him a scathing look from the brunette. "I _want_ to be here, Jellal. He didn't _make_ me."

She didn't say it like a doll reciting the words she'd been spelled to say, but like a cognizant human being. He wished he could say _rational,_ but what she was thinking was beyond him. He didn't apologize for his behaviour. "Does Julian know you're in here fucking his newest recruit?"

Natalie started to do up her bra, avoiding his gaze. "Julian is busy."

"So no," Jellal determined. "How do you think he'll feel about that? Think he'll be kind?" He shook Erza off and stood straighter, feeling slightly more rational. "It's a risk, Natalie; you're playing with a scorpion's nest. Just because it hasn't stung yet doesn't mean it won't."

Eli was on the verge of saying something snarky. He looked at Natalie, though, and it died. She hadn't done much, but she had him hook, line and sinker. "Jellal's right." His voice was hoarse, the vocal cords damaged. "We had fun, now it's time to stop. Put the cuffs back on."

"Forever?" she prodded.

He didn't respond. All Jellal had to do was look at them to know that whatever barrier they erected, it would always crumble. The brunette must have realized the same thing because, wearing a cheeky smile, she adjusted her breasts without complaint and stood, then looked for her shirt. She found it crumpled on the floor, a sheer white blouse that contrasted harshly with her black skirt. She put everything as it should be, then picked up a pair of cuffs and cinched them back on Eli's wrists. "Now where's that key… I'm sure _Officer_ Griswold would appreciate it delivered so he doesn't have to come looking for it." She winked at Jellal. "Silly men. He likes the girls and the scotch, and missing shifts so he can lay in Gomorrah's beds high as fuck and stare at the ceiling, wondering what kind of man he wants to be, but he doesn't like that he likes it. Maybe you can explain that to me, Jellal. I get the feeling you're the same way."

"When I want something, Natalie, I generally take it without remorse," Jellal said. That was the problem, wasn't it? He avoided Erza's gaze like the fucking plague. She saw through him, to all the things he wanted most. Blood and money, notoriety. Her.

Natalie smiled widely. "Of course."

"Key's in my pocket," Eli cut in.

The brunette turned her attention back to Eli and searched through his pants until she came out with a silver key. It went into her bra. "See?" She said to Jellal. " _Not_ forcing me." The words weren't delivered with as much conviction as Jellal would have liked; it was like she wanted to believe it but was kind of wondering herself. Instead of bothered, she seemed exhilarated.

Jellal asked, "Where's Celia?"

"Showering in Julian's room," Natalie said.

"And where is Julian keeping Madam Genève?"

"Did he tell you to see her?" Natalie raised a challenging brow.

"Yes," Jellal lied.

She shook her head. "If he did, he would have told you the room number. Go back to your room, Jellal, and wait until he's ready to go with you."

"There is a headless woman on my balcony," Jellal said. "No, thanks. Tell me where to find her."

"A headless woman?" Natalie repeated.

Eli examined Jellal, probing in his mind without his permission. "She killed Haya."

"And left her here in Gomorrah? How?" Natalie asked.

"We don't know," Erza said.

"People would notice a body being lugged through the hotel," Natalie insisted. "Even in Innisfil, it's not so common a thing to carry around a corpse."

Jellal tightened his fists and _breathed_ , trying to hold in all of his violence for Madam instead when he felt his frustration mounting. "The how doesn't _matter._ What matters is that Haya was innocent."

"No. None of us are," Eli rebuked.

"Just tell me where to find Madam Genève." His own verdict was the only one that counted. ' _You are not God,_ ' Erza trilled in his head. ' _You don't get to make those decisions.'_ He made them all the time, though, who lived, who died, who could be redeemed and who was too far gone, and he wasn't at all sorry for it. Arrogance was a mask he'd wear without remorse if it meant Madam would be _stopped._

"Even bound, she'll never let you walk in and kill her," Eli said.

Jellal's hands tingled with the ghost of sensation; his heart swelled and his lungs got tight. He named the feeling: excitement. "I almost killed her tonight. And the night before. She is not so powerful." _Not so powerful. It's true._ If he repeated that, he might actually believe it, too.

Eli looked genuinely surprised. "She usually keeps a better hold on her pets."

 _Pet. Toy. Object._ "I haven't been hers for a long, long time," Jellal said. Though, they both knew in his innermost thoughts, every time he looked at her, he _wanted_ to be hers again, as was her gift.

"Julian doesn't want her dead," Natalie injected.

"He _hired_ me to kill her!" Jellal's voice reached dangerous decibels. Beside him, Erza winced, looking panicked again.

Natalie caught her breath. The expression she wore was full of fear, but also excitement, too. She liked dangerous men. Girls like her were always looking for a feeling they couldn't find when they were trapped in some seemingly mediocre relationship with men that didn't carry guns or have blood on their hands, men that didn't have secrets worth killing for, men that weren't elbow deep in corruption. He thought if the situation were just a little different, she'd be asking for the same treatment he gave Erza. Sweaty, breathless, shivering. And maybe he'd give it to her. As it were, she said, "He wants her alive to answer questions about how she made Illusion, Jellal, you know that. He can't replicate it; she's the only one that knows how."

"I came here to kill a woman, not help Julian York get rich off a drug that plays into people's delusions."

"You weren't so judgemental when it was _you_ using the drug to fill a void someone left behind."

Jellal's neck flushed. He kept his eyes away from Erza, not proud of what he'd done. "Just tell me where she is. Julian doesn't need to know it was you that told me."

Natalie shook her head. "I don't know."

She was loyal to Julian through and through despite her flirting with danger with Eli. Jellal imagined _forcing_ her to tell him. everything that went through his head was dark, dark, dark. Dark enough to make Eli pale.

"I'm restrained, but not helpless," Eli warned. "She said she doesn't know where Madam Genève is."

"You're _lying_." He wasn't yelling anymore, he was cold, toeing the line, flirting with the monster.

The side door opened and a small blonde figure came into the room, stopping their argument short. Someone had found Celia a pair of pink flannel pajamas. Her hair was meticulously brushed and braided, her face clear of all makeup. Now only Madam's tattoo marked her. Despite that, she looked like a child again. Eli looked over his shoulder and immediately softened.

"Hey, Cece."

"Are you alright?" Erza asked, moving just steps away from Jellal. She still had her eye on him, not at all trusting him to behave. "Have they been treating you well?"

Celia said, "I'm fine." She came to Eli's side, eyes on his hands. "But, if this place is so much better, why is he chained up?"

Erza didn't have an answer, but Eli did. "Because it makes some people feel better."

Natalie said, "You were the one that requested the cuffs, Eli. You can be free any time you like."

Anger stormed across his face. "I don't want to be, obviously."

"Why?" Jellal asked.

He looked away. In Jellal's head he said, _Because, unlike you, I still have a hard time bringing myself to kill Madam Genève. She's been begging me to free her. I don't know if I can say no._

Jellal used the knowledge to strengthen his argument. "Then tell me _where she is_. I'll put an end to it for everyone."

Erza raised her brow in confusion. "What?" She searched his face, looking for the lunatic. She didn't have to look very hard, he was _right there._

"Talking to himself. What'd I tell you, Erza, he's a lunchbox," Eli said with a small smirk, a ghost of his old, asshole self.

Jellal glowered. "Speak aloud." _Or I'll cut your tongue out and take the privilege away._

If Eli heard the threat, he didn't balk. Casually he said, "I think part of our bargain was you get Julian that anti-magic lacrima, eh?"

Jellal fumed. "Stop trying to sidetrack me. Tell me where Julian's keeping Madam Genève."

"He's not," Natalie said. "Julian's been worried about sitting in with Genève without it. That's partially why he's been delaying talking to her."

"It has nothing to do with both of us being uncooperative cows," Eli grinned.

Erza remembered her first encounter with Julian, the guard's blood bursting from his face, the way he _screamed_ , on the brink of death. "What magic does she possess that would make Julian so wary?" She didn't imagine that he was afraid of very many people, not with magic that could kill a person in their tracks with scarcely a thought.

"Now that is the question, isn't it?" Eli teased. "She's mum, like she's been taking practice from a fucking nun."

"There are rumors, though," Natalie supplied when Eli didn't elaborate. "Some of her… allies have claimed fits of confusion, disassociation, irrational decision making when she asks them to do something that is of no benefit to them, and fealty. Strong emotions that last for days before they weaken, only to flare up again as soon as they see her."

"What does that mean?" Erza asked.

"That she is able to sway their emotions, Julian thinks," Natalie explained.

Jellal caught himself wondering (hoping) it were true. Could Madam Genève _actually_ make him feel things he didn't want to feel? _Why are you hiding from yourself? Stop pretending you're something different than what you are._ He cleared his throat. "It sounds like an excuse. A guise to hide behind so people don't feel guilty about the poor decisions they've made."

"But the only way to know for sure is to get that lacrima and bring it back here," Eli said, reading Jellal like a book _despite_ his insistence on _multiple_ occasions that the man stay out of his head. Erik was the exact same way, pushing and pushing. Jellal hadn't found a way to push back yet, other than forcing his thoughts to quieten. It seemed _that_ particular route was all but closed off to him as of late; his head was a mess of noise.

"As soon as you get those lacrima, you can see Madam Genève," Natalie said. "We'll get our answers, and then we'll—we'll leave you inside and close the door. What happens afterward is up to you."

Jellal flushed, feeling a bloodlust coming on. Erza grabbed his wrist and held it tight over the scratches and nail marks. The skin was inflamed. She didn't beg him not to act, too torn for that. Morality and justice. Peace of mind and food for the disease. She didn't _know_. She didn't _know_ if killing Genève would make the situation worse, or if it would free him.

Her frustration and confusion was utterly palpable. Jellal closed his eyes and bathed in it, more than a little confused himself. _If you push her, she'll bend. She will. She loves you. She'll see this is the right thing to do._ Knowing that, he was eager to see Madam Genève. "Just tell me how she does it and I'll spell the lacrima I already have."

"They're no ordinary lacrima," Eli said.

"What's so different with them?"

Jellal felt the man pressing at his mind, shoving a memory through. Eli traversing the fog trailing through the Basement, a heavy and wet sack in hand. His destination was clear: the large canvass tent erected in the shadiest corner where hardly anyone dared to go.

The tent flap eased back, a curtain appeared. A dark skinned hand slipped from between the laughing beads, taking the sack. It opened, and inside were small red jewels.

Not jewels, Jellal realized. But hearts, as small as walnuts. Wet and red. His mouth went dry. Body magic _was_ the strongest. But this…?

"Where?" Jellal choked. "Where do they come from?" He was afraid of the answer.

Eli shrugged. "I only delivered."

"I want to see her _now_." He was so rattled he was quivering.

Erza touched his arm gently, attempting to comfort him. "Jellal—"

He shook her off. She didn't _see,_ she didn't _know_.

Natalie looked shaken; she'd already heard the story. "Just get the lacrima, Jellal, and we'll put an end to this."

He took in a breath. And another. And another. He didn't _want_ to touch them. But… "If it means that I can have what it is I came here for, then I will get those poisoned lacrima. But after Julian has their protection, I'm destroying them."

"But—" Natalie started.

He cut in. " _No one_ here is to speak of their existence, or how they're made. I'll know if you do. The last thing the world needs is a market for this." He got close to Natalie, thinking she was the weakest link. "I mean it. No pillow talk, no whispers. Don't tell Sienna, and don't tell Julian how Madam's done it, or I'll come back and kill you all." _It is the best way to get rid of an infection_ , he told himself when he felt he was getting lost in imagining all of the red. _It's a job, not a want._

"I know how to keep a secret," Natalie said in a voice that shook.

Erza shifted from bare foot to bare foot, obviously uncomfortable with the threats, with the secrets. Jellal knew she was _dying_ to get all of the information from him, but in a show of great control, she left it. He suspected for their travels back to the Vault. He looked past her to Celia. "How's your tongue? Loose?"

"She doesn't know anything about this business," Eli snapped. "She never has. Leave her out of it."

"And you?" Jellal queried, unperturbed.

"You know I'm better at learning secrets than I am at telling." Eli had a dangerous look on his face, like he was waiting for Jellal to press it, but Jellal believed him.

He asked, "Where can I get the lacrima?"

Eli explained, "You'll find them in the anti-magic room. They're in a panel behind the black roses portrait."

Seeing Jellal seemed satisfied, Erza closed her eyes and donned her armour. "We'll return shortly."

* * *

Innisfil's streets were quiet save for the _clink_ of Erza's armour. As Jellal walked, he did up his shirt, wishing for the first time ever that he had the suit jacket. It would be warmer at least, if not confining. He fidgeted with the shirt's material, knowing that while Madam wouldn't be there, somewhere in his head he wanted to look as good as he could entering her house. _You really are broken_.

Erza noticed his fiddling. He'd fixed the cuff of his shirt twice already and was going in for a third time. "Are you nervous?"

"Nervous?" Jellal repeated.

"To go back to the Vault."

Realizing what had caught her attention, he attempted to stuff his hands into his pockets; Erza twisted their fingers together, holding his hand tight.

Jellal surrendered to her hold. "No. I'm not nervous."

"Liar."

He offered her a glare from beneath his lashes. "What do you want me to say?"

"That you're rattled," Erza replied.

"I don't know why—"

"Because a dead woman was thrown on your balcony with a note just for you. Because Eli has us looking for lacrima created in such a way that made you green. Because Genève has a hold on you I can't understand, or seem to break through some times."

All of those things were true. He didn't have to admit them though.

"Tell me about the lacrima."

He held his breath, caught in Eli's vision again. Small garnets flickering by the candle light. They didn't drip anymore, like maybe they'd been washed clear of blood. "I don't really know."

"Liar," she said again.

 _Liar. Liar. Liar._ He used to tell excellent lies. Everything. Innisfil was unravelling everything. _I need to get away from this town._ "They were made of hearts, Erza."

"Hearts?"

"Small ones. I don't even want to think of what provided them."

Erza clenched his hand all the more. "This is a dark place."

They passed by a giant restaurant that was boarded up, and one right beside it that was flourishing. Looking into the window revealed a small girl with golden curls. She looked up from her plate of pasta and met Jellal's eyes without fear. It took him a long time to break that deadlock, but when he did, he saw she was sitting with the woman Dee Vander. The latter looked shaken after her conversation with Julian, her hands quivering as she lifted a glass of wine. Seeing a shift in loyalties was like getting an in-focus picture. Innisfil was on the precipice of change. It was a steep cliff it teetered on. Jellal liked to think that on one side was Madam Genève, and on the other was the dark and unknown, Julian York, because while the man surrounded himself with flashy lights and glittering girls and told all the best stories to all of the best people in all the best ways, he kept his hand tight to his chest.

 _What does that mean for this sinful city?_ And should he care at the end of the day, if Madam Genève was dead and he had his money? _Kill Julian or not…_

Give into the bloodlust or not. Really. That was the question.

"Are you okay to come in?" Erza asked.

Jellal pulled himself from his thoughts and realized that they had long ago passed the restaurants and were now at the Vault. His head could go dead thinking about Madam Genève and corruption and sin and everything terrible that was so, so good.

"Yes." No. Not really. He was never really good to enter the Vault. But tonight he would do so without fear. The mistress was in chains. And soon she'd have a knife through her heart. She had no hold on him.

Erza didn't ask if he was sure; she wouldn't do him that disservice. She _did_ lead the way, though, up the pathway, through the wide double doors, over the mosaic floor. There was a tea set on the table. And a vase of flowers, though the black roses had drooped significantly. Jellal searched the room for others.

"We're alone, I believe," Erza said. "That tea was there when I arrived yesterday. Nothing has moved."

"Where is everyone?" Jellal asked.

She shrugged. "There was only Celia when I entered. She was waiting for me."

Jellal thought of all the ways that were possible. It had to have been Haya, though _why_ she would tell Genève and not _leave_ like he told her to… _It doesn't matter. You'll get revenge for her as well._ "The anti-magic room is here." He went to the furthest room and pushed the door open.

First the silver and gold walls stunned him, and then the smell. Iron, pungent enough to be eye watering. Jellal knew without seeing that blood had been spilled. He found it anyway, the silvered floor now kissed with sticky red florets. Most of them were dry, but some were still wet enough to shine in the dim light, candles that had been burning all last night and all day, so now they were just nubs; some of them had already burned down and out.

There was more than enough light to find the source of all the blood. The head was left to rest on the pillow like she was sleeping. But she had no eyes to close. Hardly any lips to crack open. Her nose too had been sliced off. Haya had been beautiful, but now she was just holes, mouth taken up in a generous slit of skin. Her hair still glimmered like a raven's wing at least; maybe Madam couldn't ruin _everything_ , though gods, she tried _._

 _Did she do it herself, or did she get someone to pay for the chance to do it for her?_ He'd bet on the latter. While she watched. She was a glorious creature. Twisted and broken, and she found the most twisted and broken people, too.

Erza's retching shook Jellal from a sick daze. He found her in the corner, back turned toward him, hand planted on the wall to steady herself. He winced as she heaved again. She didn't have a stomach for the perverse. _Not like you._ Admittedly, Innisfil had broken him in at a young age.

While Erza emptied her stomach, Jellal went to the portrait Eli spoke of. It was as he promised, the black roses draped one on top of the other in a painting that was obviously done just for Madam. How long ago? Jellal searched his memory and thought it was a relic from the Vault before it burned to the ground. _It doesn't matter. Stop reminiscing._ That way he couldn't think of how easy it would be to fall back into everything he used to find familiar.

 _She's dead, she just doesn't know it yet. Get the lacrima._ The thought of the little hearts getting turned into magic-eating crystals by a priest that was a disgrace to the title was sobering. Without ceremony, he tore the painting from the wall and dropped it to the ground. The glass cracked, then shattered, splinters coating the floor. The wall beneath was slightly lighter, protected from the cigarette smoke and anything else. And there was the panel. There was no handle to get it open, so he took his knife from his pocket and dug the blade into the slit between the door and the wall and forced it. The blade grated. A small whine filled the room.

"Jellal." Erza had composed herself again. Her voice shook around his name.

"I hear it." His skin pricked.

"Whatever you're doing—" Erza warned. "I think—"

He didn't get to learn what she thought. The door popped open and a familiar spell came rushing out. His own magic hit him like a ton of bricks and threw him to the floor, trying to crush the life from his body. All around the room, bits of furniture turned to splinters, the candles flew from the walls, the floor buckled and turned to fine particles and above, the ceiling bowed in, plaster and insulation raining down, bringing with it moonlight. On the bed, the vestiges of Haya cracked like a watermelon left too long in the sun and soaked into the sheets. Someone screamed. _Erza._ Clearly he imagined her eyes bleeding. Her mouth. Her ears. Her nose. She was getting crumpled like a piece of aluminum. He had no heart to turn and look for her, afraid of what he'd find. The pressure on his lungs was great. _This is what Simon felt seconds before he died. This is what Erza is feeling now._

 _Do something_. It was his own damned spell, after all.

 _Anything._

Every bone in his body was on the verge of snapping like dry twigs.

 _Think._

He acted instead, letting his magic decide for him. Force was met with force, Altairis opening a rift in space so deep, so _complete_ , it swallowed the remainder of the magic, taking all the force, most of the air, and all of the energy out of the room. In its wake, a small lacrima teetered on the edge of the now open cubby. When it fell, it shattered, but not before Jellal had a second to recognize its design. It was very similar to the one he'd propositioned from the priest in the Basement. From the crystal's broken body, blood leaked across the floor. It would seem the priest had no trouble finding a use for it.

Feet away, Erza lay prone on the ground, wheezing with her adamantine shield clamped together over her body like that would protect her. She stayed that way for several breaths, shaking in the aftermath of his strongest spell.

"It's okay," Jellal managed. "It's gone."

Erza tipped her head back to look at him. "What the _hell_ , Jellal? That was _your_ magic."

He got his shaking legs beneath his body and stood. "I sold it to a man in the Basement for some lacrima." Word travelled fast; even the priest couldn't keep a secret. Or maybe the eyes on Innisfil's streets watched him closely. Whatever the case, it would seem that Madam Genève was interested in what he could do now. He was both pleased and anxious by that revelation. What would it be like to be more than a whore for her? To be needed for so much else? _Even if you were foolish enough to let her use you, she's locked up. She can't do anything_.

' _She doesn't have to_ stay _that way_.'

It was as odd as ever hearing his voice reach his own ears without his consent. He kept his eyes trained on the hole in the wall, not needing to see which mirrored surface gave life to his reflection. He focused instead on Erza trading her armour, getting back into her familiar Heart Kreuz. She clambered to her feet, metal clanking, floor crunching. Everywhere she stepped was a mix of dust and hunks of mica. She stepped over the debris elegantly and came to his side so she too could peer into the small vault. Jellal followed her gaze. In the corner were seven tiny lacrima. It took a lot of bravery to reach in and grabbed them out. In his hand they felt warm. The magic they held was tangible.

"That's them?" Erza asked in a hushed voice.

"So it would seem. We don't need so many." He didn't even try his own magic, knowing that it would never work. He placed five of the seven lacrima on the ground a few feet apart. "Draw a sword, Erza."

She didn't ask questions or hesitate in reaching into her armoury. The blade she chose had a handle that _would_ have been ornate, but where the ruby was supposed to be was only a blank socket. The lack of decoration didn't affect the sword's sharpness, though. It sliced through the air and struck the first lacrima.

The sword promptly disintegrated, falling into tiny pieces all the way up to the hilt. Erza held the barren pommel up and examined the damage, taking the news surprisingly well. "It seems the lacrima are spelled for protection."

Of course they would be; Madam would very much want to keep these intact. "Do you have something else?"

"…I think so." She drew a halberd, long and sharp blade gleaming in the light of the moon that snuck through the cracked ceiling. She breathed out and then swung. Her blade hit true and then was thrown back so violently it was torn out of her hands. In two pieces, it clanged against the opposite wall. The lacrima only rocked, unaffected.

"What?" Erza said numbly.

"Try again, with a different weapon," Jellal instructed impatiently.

"That was the _only_ weapon I had that would cut through that kind of magic, Jellal," Erza said. "That was the halberd from my Nakagami armour." She went to it and lifted it in the air. The break was clean at least. She swore. "It's ruined."

"You have to have something else—"

"I don't," she said sharply.

They stared at each other tensely for another beat, Jellal thinking of all the things he wanted to say out of pure frustration. He bit them all back, choosing instead to collect the lacrima one after the other. They rocked against each other, quietly clicking together in his hand. They felt so fragile when he held them like this, yet they were anything but. The priest did his job very, very well.

"We'll hide the five in our room and tell Julian that we only found two," Jellal determined. "After I deal with Madam, we'll take the lacrima with us and find a way to dispose of them." Because magic like that _shouldn't_ be allowed out in the world.

 _'Does that mean you're going to kill the priest, too? Where does it end?_ '

"It ends when the corruption does," he muttered.

"What?" Erza asked.

Jellal stuffed the lacrima deep into his pockets, a new idea coming to him. "Nothing. We'll make a stop at the Basement before we return to Gomorrah."

"What is the Basement?"

He looked at her from the corner of her eye. She was trying _very_ hard not to look at the remainder of the broken bed where Haya's head had been crushed to nearly nothing. She still looked green, and it was easy to see why; his spell had left only a stain of wet and a cap of black hair behind, the bed closest to the epicenter of the spell. _That could have been Erza. Just like it was Simon._

"Jellal?" Erza stepped toward him.

He realized he was staring at the bed. He also realized that his face was twisted in an odd expression, one even he had trouble naming. He schooled his features into something like indifference and reached for the last burning candle on the far wall. "The Basement is the hub of the black magic trade in Innisfil. It's where the lacrima originated. The… creator might have an idea of how to destroy them." _And then afterward I'll sink my blade into his heart._ He recognized that his thoughts were getting more manic, more violent and the _frequency_ was increasing as well, but there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it, _that_ Jellal, the slightly rational one that only secretly took pleasure in feeling the blood slide between his fingers, was really starting to lose his foothold, and the more erratic Jellal, the one that could kill his childhood friend and his love was fighting viciously for a front row seat.

He breathed deeply, smelling blood, the tang of Erza's vomit. _When this is done, I'll smother the other Jellal once again._ But for now, he needed the monster. He needed to know he could still be an _Iblis_ , he needed the bloodlust, because _that_ Jellal never hesitated. _That_ Jellal wouldn't fall victim to any petty attacks launched by the ghosts of his past. He dropped the candle to the bed beside Haya's cap of night black hair. It crackled wetly, smelling awful. The sheets beneath it caught flame. Jellal waited until it was burning cheerily before he turned his back on the Vault. With any luck, it would raze to the ground again. And this time, it would stay that way.

"The Basement is this way."

* * *

A/N: The time has come, guys.

One more action-filled, saucy, raunchy chapter. I thought about fitting it all in here… but I'm lazy. And I want it to be _good_. And it's been eight whole days! You're so patient waiting for me. I'm sorry.


	29. Chapter 29

Innisfil stank. It was putrid when he was a boy and still now as an adult; the only difference was that Jellal could put name to all of the peculiar smells. Roasting meat made his stomach cramp. Vinegary bile made it roil. The pungent stench of cigarettes brought him back to a time when he hung off the craps tables and took his chances with rich men and women just because he loved to win. Never mind that he usually lost. The one percent success rate was always, always worth it.

His shiny shoes kicked through detritus, garbage and the first few leaves shaken from their trees. He'd been in Innisfil too long; it was time to move on again. _Leave home behind_. The thought was startling, but absolutely true: this place above all others belonged to him. He'd lived here the longest and it would always have a piece of his heart. A tiny, twisted and rotting, yet integral piece.

The streets got darker, first the odd street lamp without a bulb. The number increased exponentially until the only thing that dared to light this poisoned part of the city was the moon, and even that looked dull, yellowed in a way that seemed malevolent. Buildings twisted, reaching for the ground like old men with broken backs, brick façades stained with age spots.

Jellal hung close to one such building, ducking down a narrow rubbish-filled alley. Erza reached for his hand, wanting to keep him nearby in case anything strange was about to happen. "What are we doing here?"

Jellal didn't answer for the time being. Not until they were inside. He walked with purpose all the way to the end of the grey alley, "Lantos." Bricks groaned, peeling back to reveal the sentry. It was the same man as it ever was; even when Jellal was a boy. He never looked any older, hair still bright blonde, eyes still cuttingly blue. Who knew if he was even a man and not just a golem erected to protect this passage?

Jellal waited, the correct words on his tongue, however, instead of the usual spiel, the man said, "Be gone from this place."

"I don't believe those are the words."

"They are when you're no longer granted access to the Basement. Be gone," the man maintained.

"Who says?" Jellal asked. "Anyone that knows the moon and her sisters—"

The man's mouth went flat. "Leave. The Basement is not a good place to be. Not this evening."

Jellal shook off Erza's hold and got closer to the sentry. Years of habit made him expect the other man to flinch back, but it had been a long time since he'd been in Innisfil. These people didn't know to be afraid of the leader of Crime Sorciere. They didn't know that when Jellal Fernandez deemed you unfit, you were counting down to your last seconds. _You can show him_.

Magic was in his hands, the ruthless kind.

 _Are you going to kill a man for baring your way_? Yes. But not without some warning at least. "I need to see the priest. Don't block my way and you won't be harmed."

"Mr. Fental is no longer doing business in this city," the sentry said.

Jellal grinded it his teeth, annoyed. "Stop these lies."

The man waved his hand in front of the wall and a scene unfolded. There was the priest's tent, hungry fire tearing through its canvas walls. Though they were still a kilometer away, Jellal could smell all of the things burning inside, flesh and fur and chemicals to preserve body parts. The destruction was awe-inspiring.

"What happened?"

"Madam Genève is purging the city of all that won't state their loyalty—and all that won't give their loyalty to her."

Jellal met the man's eyes, knowing well enough what that meant if he was still guarding the entrance. He asked anyway. "And where do your loyalties lie?"

Erza missed the dangerous note that came into Jellal's voice, too busy observing the destruction inside this conjured gateway—the lower part of the city was razing. People were racing into the tent to gather up anything they could, hoping that there would still be value in the seared objects, all the while the fire was spreading, leaping from one vender to the next, until a row of them were caught in a vicious blaze. a man dared to dart into the tent just as one of the support poles gave out and he was trapped beneath a blanket of fire. His scream was muffled by the sentry's voice. "My loyalties are with whoever pays me to protect the Basement."

"Predictable," Jellal drawled.

The sentry didn't apologize. "Innisfil is hers, and she will crush anyone that opposes her. You, for instance. Many people know your face now, Mr. Fernandez, and her instructions are clear. If you will not conform…" He drew his fingers over his throat.

"I see."

Erza barely saw the flash of Jellal's knife blade when he drew it from his pocket and swiped it over the man's throat, and for two whole seconds, she thought he missed. Then the blood gushed out, pungently smelling of copper. She didn't have time to voice a protest before the man fell to his knees, a wet and wide smile in his throat. Jellal's hand was soaked in blood, the look on his face terrifying. _Pleasure. Panic. Glee._

"Gods." Erza unfroze, sort of coming to terms with the events that just took place. "What did you do?" The question seemed inadequate.

Jellal looked up from the mess he'd made. "He was one of Madam's. He would have killed us." His voice was near expressionless, except for that muted thread of joy that made Erza feel dizzy and sick. _No. No._ There wasn't anything to be done for the sentry now, but that didn't mean that more people had to suffer without much cause. She approached cautiously and reached for the knife. Jellal held it firmly, reluctant to let it loose.

"Let go, Jellal."

"Why?"

 _Why_? How did you tell the man you loved that you didn't trust him? That he _scared_ you? That he was sick and you worried that he'd never get better? "Please."

"You're afraid."

There was no hiding it, she shook like a leaf, her armour jittering loudly with every quiver. "Just give me the blade."

He searched her eyes, looking scared himself. "I protected us."

She got between the pommel and his palm and worked it free. As soon as she was able, she opened her armoury and dumped the knife inside where it could do no harm. "If we need a blade tonight, I will draw it."

"Erza…"

She didn't know what else to say. "Tell me he wasn't a good person." Like Jellal was judge and jury and executioner.

Jellal's response came without hesitation. "He wasn't a good person. He was Madam's, Erza, and given the opportunity, he would have killed us. He was just waiting for the right words."

 _See?_ It didn't feel like enough. However, Erza moved methodically, grabbing the fallen man from beneath the arms and dragging him further into the alley. It felt like what she was doing—covering the crime—was so, so wrong, but she did it anyway. Not only did she hope that Jellal was right, the man would have been a threat, she also wanted to protect Jellal.

With the body safely tucked in amongst the rubbish, she sent a silent apology and prayer to anyone that was listening, then asked aloud, "What's next?"

Jellal pressed against the alley wall. It was solid as solid could be, the sentry's gateway long since vanished. "I believe what the sentry showed us was real." Which meant that the priest was either dead or he'd moved on. He didn't think that a man such as Mr. Fental would be caught off guard by anyone Madam could send, so he had to believe the man had taken everything that was important to him and disappeared to build his fortune elsewhere. Annoying, but if Mr. Fental was on the run, he wasn't selling tiny hearts to Julian York to make a profit. _You can hunt him down later and destroy him._ For now, Gomorrah and Genève were waiting for him.

* * *

It was impossible for Jellal not to finger the lacrimas as he walked. They hummed in his pocket, their bodies full of all the magic they'd eaten. He came into Gomorrah without regard for the blood staining his hands, as unapologetic now as he'd ever been. Erza kept pace with him all the way to the elevator. He jammed the button and waited impatiently for the metal trap to arrive. Smoke coiled around him, players at the slots puffing frantically, watching their money whirl past and line Julian York's wallet. Jellal wondered if they knew the vicious cycle they were in. Not likely, not while their fingers were on the levers and the numbers were spinning. He knew from experience that it was a fantastic state to be in, holding your breath, losing, losing, losing, and then the big win made it all worth it. Even if you didn't win back all of your money. The validation was _real_.

A blonde waitress sauntered by. She wasn't bare from the waist up like those in Noir, but her clothing left very little to the imagination, a tight fitting, low cut black dress. These beautiful people Julian employed were designed to make the customers want to stay even longer, tip even better. She paused and tugged a handkerchief from her pocket and used it to clean the bloody button on the elevator, the mess left behind by Jellal's fingers, then handed it to him.

"Here, Mr. Fernandez."

Jellal took the cloth numbly. "Thank you."

"Mr. York said that if you should return tonight, we were to ask if you've retrieved the lacrima like Mr. Tase requested."

"I have," he replied hesitantly.

The woman nodded, short golden curls bobbing. "Then he says wait in your room and he'll send for you when he's ready. It should be shortly."

Jellal didn't know how to ask if Haya had been cleaned up. "Before we left…"

"She has been removed. If it makes you uncomfortable, though, you can have a new room."

"No, that's fine." It wouldn't matter, he wasn't going to be in Gomorrah past tonight if all went well.

"Excellent." She smiled, lips glittering with some shiny lip gloss. "Mr. York also would like to know if you required room service? Our chefs are quite skilled."

All Jellal could imagine was Haya's decapitated and violated head. "No, thank you."

The waitress directed her attention to Erza. "Miss Scarlet?"

Erza looked almost green. "No. Thanks."

The woman smiled tightly. "A drink then?" Erza declined, so she offered a fluted glass of champagne to Jellal. He took it mostly to calm his nerves. The whole way to the casino he was stuck thinking on the way Erza had looked at him. Her fear was so potent. Aside from that, he kept thinking about Madam Genève. Soon he'd see her. He'd hold the tainted lacrima and discover if what Madam did was truly magic, or if he just loved how broken she made him. He'd let Julian ask his questions. And then the doors would close and he'd kill her. He'd cut her throat and watch her bleed. He'd watch her become human and relish every moment until all of the life left her body. Maybe he'd cry. Maybe he'd scream. Maybe he'd laugh.

"And how about a cigarette, sir?" The waitress offered him a crisp white cylinder.

Jellal traded the soiled handkerchief for the cigarette just _because._ It gave him something to do and something to focus on other than his circular thoughts. Beside him, Erza was looking at his still mostly red hands holding the smoke, wearing a look of disapproval. Apparently there were a lot of things that he did that she didn't like.

So be it.

The waitress held out a lit lighter and he puffed the cigarette's cherry into existence, surprised all over again when his lungs didn't reject the pungent smoke. It would be so _easy_ to fall back into his habits. Innisfil and all of her sinful glory _wanted_ him to come home.

The elevator arrived before any of his other bad behaviours could make themselves known.

"Enjoy your evening," the waitress said. Jellal stepped in, Erza at his side, and pressed the button for the fourteenth floor. The doors closed Gomorrah out.

The destination was reached in silence, the only sound the elevator humming along on its tracks. Jellal drank all of his champagne and wished for more. He flicked his cigarette and smoked. Smoked and flicked, the ash landing on the floor. He wasn't sorry for it, mind elsewhere. The elevator dinged, doors slipping open, and deposited them on a floor whiter than cloud. Gomorrah's brightness hid well all of the things that went on behind closed doors. The only thing to sully the gleam was Scarlet Lake's red tinge.

Jellal led the way to their room, flicking on the light beside the door. He didn't know what he expected as he stepped inside. Blood smears? A torn Abaya? _Some_ sort of evidence that Haya had been there. Instead the room looked as clean and clinical as it had the very first time he'd stepped foot into it, the evidence of her suffering completely washed away. Jellal went to the balcony to be certain. Sure enough, even that was completely clean, as if Haya had existed not at all. It made him sad and it made him happy. It obliterated the guilt he felt, knowing it would have been kinder if he'd just been brave enough to take her life away instead of letting Madam keep and torture her.

He turned away from the scene of the carnage and found Erza. She was doused in Scarlet Lake's glow, beautiful in red. She slipped out of the eerie light and into the washroom, taking her discomfort with her. He left her to her own devices, going to the kitchenette where he crushed his cigarette out on a plate he found in one of the bright cupboards. Sullying the black rose design gave him great pleasure, knowing they were _her_ favorite flower. He tossed it on the counter and washed his hands thoroughly, getting the remainder of the blood out from beneath his nails. Even when his hands were clean, it still felt like he was drenched in it. Mainly because he _wanted_ to be. He went looking for the decanter of scotch Julian kept topped up. There was no sipping for enjoyment, just downing the burning amber liquid to still the shake in his hands, quiet the vicious voice in his head. The effect was immediate. He breathed easier and even distanced himself from Erza's frightened gaze.

He could hear her in the washroom scrubbing her teeth in an effort to get the sick taste out of her mouth. He supposed the civilized thing—the _kind_ thing—to do would be to ask her if she was okay, but he was afraid to start that conversation. She'd turn the question around on him and the answer was _no._ He was frustrated, unused to waiting whenever he wanted to kill someone. And there was the fact that it was Madam Genève. He hardly felt capable of doing the deed as it was, but to wait and give himself time to waver? That was just asking for a disaster.

 _It's fine. You won't balk. Erza won't stop you._ He'd been sure about that an hour ago, but after he'd killed the sentry? _He was going to kill you if you didn't say the right things._ There wasn't much doubt in his mind of _that_ truth. He just wished Erza would see things as plainly. Nothing was so black and white for her. He placed his hand into his pocket again and pulled out the tiny lacrima. He took two at random and clenched the rest, wishing they'd break but knowing that no amount of regular force would do it. Two went back into his pocket, the remaining five into the pocket of a black suit inside the large walk-in closet.

 _Soon._ He'd visit with Madam, come back and retrieve these remaining magic-eaters, and then Innisfil would be behind him. _And you can go back to making things normal again._

If he _could_.

If he _wanted_ to.

 _Crime Sorciere will need someone to lead them once more. Once you fall into your old routine, everything will be more manageable again._ As long as he didn't spend all of his free time trying to sneak away from his group to slice up any he deemed worthy, dumping their bodies in some other lake, like he could recreate Scarlet Lake's sinful glow. _Erza will help if you let her._

In the mean time… He started looking for a suit appropriate for taking Madam Genève's last breath from her lungs. He didn't know he was being watched until he turned and saw Erza there occupying the doorway. She'd changed into a simple long sleeved grey dress coupled with a pair of tall black boots. She'd had enough time to wash her hair and pin it back in a complicated braid (had so much time passed?). Her face was clear of any makeup, eyes bright and calculating as they studied him. She said nothing and he was afraid to break the silence, so he went on his way, choosing something to wear. He settled on a navy blue pant and vest coupled with a shirt that was funeral black. He discarded the thin tie, knowing that it would irk Madam to see him so dishevelled. If Erza knew why he was taking special care, she didn't call him on it. He started to dress, removing his soiled shirt and pants and replacing them. When it came time to do up the shirt's buttons, Erza was there to do it for him.

"I don't think killing that man makes you unredeemable." As far as first words went after an hour of silence, they were enough to take his breath away. "If you say he would kill us, I believe you."

"Being with me puts your morals in jeopardy, Erza," Jellal replied eventually.

She folded down his collar. "That was something I've always known."

He searched for regret in her eyes and saw none. The true test was to lean down and kiss her. Her mouth tasted like toothpaste and scotch. Apparently she too needed fortification. Whether despite that or because of it, there was no hesitation in her returning kiss. No regrets that he could see. He touched her body, unable to help himself, feeling the lacy bra she'd put on beneath her outfit. "You love me?" Knowing the answer didn't mean he didn't want to hear her say it again and again.

She grasped his wrists, forcing him to remain grabbing her. "More than I've loved anyone."

"Enough to let me do what needs to be done?"

"Enough to recognize what's best for you."

So no. He squeezed her harder. "You heard Natalie. We'll question Madam, then the doors will close."

"With you and me inside that room, and you will watch me do what needs to be done," Erza said lowly. Saying the words loudly felt _wrong_. "I will free her of her sins, and you will get the validation you need."

She was as unyielding as ever. The anger he felt was only somewhat tempered by her mouth seeking his again. He kissed her as she wanted, knowing in his heart how this night would end. She could be furious. She could find him wanting. She could hate him afterward. It would be nothing new. His reflection in the full length mirror came alive. ' _You're so selfish_. _Willing to throw away something good for a few moments of vindication_.' Jellal again ignored his other self, knowing for a fact that his hatred was a well that ran deep. It would never dry as long as Madam Genève were alive.

"Someone will be here to collect us soon."

Erza didn't miss the way he avoided responding to her, or the way he distracted her. She allowed it to continue, partially because her head was fuzzy, dull with scotch, partially because his touch was comforting despite the stubborn gleam in his eye that told her he wasn't going to be compliant. "Soon."

His mouth left a burning trail down her neck and along her sternum. Diverging, he clamped his teeth around her nipple through the dress's material. Her worries faded some. His hands abandoned her breasts for the hem of her dress. Sliding along her thigh, he grabbed her behind and held her tight, forcing their bodies together. Like this, she could pretend that nothing was wrong, but knew deep in her heart that it was nothing more than a façade.

Banging on the outer door was so startling, Jellal froze before he took his mouth away, coming to terms with his shuddering heart, his skin trilling with goose bumps. _This is it. This is it._ He was so nervous he could die. He was so giddy he could laugh until his throat was raw. It was Erza that had to step back from his embrace. She swiped at the corners of her mouth and wiped away the wet spot he'd left on her dress as best she could. As soon as she started to move, Jellal found he could as well, grabbing her wrist and pulling her up short.

"Give me my knife, Erza."

Her answer was short and without remorse. "No."

He clenched his free hand into a fist. "Please." He felt so empty without it.

"No, Jellal."

Through gritted teeth he said, "Being without it won't stop me from killing her."

Her shoulders tightened. "We'll cross that road when we come to it."

Jellal did a very poor job in masking his annoyance. It didn't matter, though, because being without a knife didn't mean he was without means to kill Madam. Almost anything could be made into a weapon. And if that failed, he had spells to do the work, but it was so… impersonal. He wanted to hold her as the life fled her system. He wanted her to know that it was her own greed that betrayed her. Her own cruelty that cut her time short.

The pounding on the door started again. Jellal broke away from Erza, wanting to get there first. Eli waited when he pulled back the door, Natalie at his side. He was still in cuffs. Behind him was a tall dark haired man with a not-so-concealed gun on his hip.

"Hey, buddy," Eli greeted with a false grin and immediately tried to go rooting through Jellal's mind. Jellal put his hand into his pocket and squeezed the lacrima. They got hot with the effort it took to block Eli's magic. They were poisonous little things, but useful. Eli stopped trying to get in. His smile grew. "You got what you were looking for, eh? And you didn't die."

"You could have told me that the vault they were in had a trap on it."

He shrugged. "Why? Did you get a surprise?"

"We were almost killed," Erza interjected angrily. "If you knew about the trap, you should have said something."

"Don't take out your frustration on me because your boy's all fucked up," Eli told her. "If you weren't smart enough to think she'd have them trapped, well… You know what they say about cleaning out the gene pool."

He just had this _way._ Jellal watched Erza make a fist and knew she was about to punch a handcuffed man. An annoying man, definitely… but… He stopped her before any drama could ensue, taking her by the shoulders and holding her in place. "Are we ready?"

"As soon as you start sharing those lacrima," Eli said.

Reluctantly, Jellal took a lacrima from his pocket and handed it over. The man accepted it awkwardly with his hands cinched together. "Get these off for me, Natalie."

Natalie reached into her white blouse and removed the handcuff key again. She showed no signs of hesitation unlocking Eli. She was a fool with a trusting heart if Jellal had ever seen one. The cuffs ended up on Jellal's floor, the key back in her bra. The muscle at her side was less trusting than she, unclipping his gun's holster.

Eli clapped the man on the back. "You know Julian said we were supposed to be best friends now, right?"

"You're a devil with no loyalty," the man replied unashamedly.

"You're hurting my feelings."

"Can we just go?" Jellal demanded.

"Easy tiger. Where're the other lacrima?"

Jellal put on his most stubborn face. "This is it."

Eli's dark brow went up. "One for you, one for me? What about the boss man?"

"I guess he doesn't get to go in the room," Jellal said.

"Julian is going to want to be in there very much," Natalie said.

"Looks like you're handing over your lacrima, Jellal." Eli held out his hand.

Jellal clenched his lacrima tightly. If he gave it up, how was he supposed to withstand any magical attacks from Madam Genève? How was he supposed to resist her if she could in fact tempt him? _I won't be a slave. I won't._ "No."

"Then I guess you don't get your revenge. Seeing as how you helped Celia out, I could give Madam a smile for you. Here?" Eli drew his fingers over his throat. "Or is disembowelment more of your thing? Who am I kidding? You don't have a type."

Jellal knew Eli was just pushing his buttons. That didn't mean he wanted them pushed. Making a fist and punching the man in the face wasn't part of the plan, but seeing Eli's front soaked in blood was liberating. _Satisfying._ Behind him, Erza drew a breath, Natalie yipped, and the man at her side had his chrome gun pulled and trained on Jellal in less time than it took Jellal to register that his knuckles ached.

Eli swiped his hand over his face, mopping up the blood on his black sleeve. He looked at Jellal with a manic gleam in his eye. He wanted to fight. Jellal waited and waited, aware of the gun, aware of Erza talking, aware of Natalie's fawning, but deaf to it all. Jellal reached into his pocket, enticing the man with the gun to engage the hammer. Erza was changing her armour, getting ready to settle things with her sword.

The lacrima Jellal brought out had a milky quality to the stone, like maybe the heart used to create it wasn't quite pure. He grabbed Eli's hand and pushed the crystal into it. "A true devil would never hide. I will face Madam without it and she will know the monster she's created. My wrath is the only protection I need."

"You're alright, Jellal," Eli said after a moment. He took the lacrima all the same and stuffed it into his pants pocket.

Natalie elbowed the man beside her. "Put your gun away, Sam. And you, Erza. Your sword."

Jellal realized Erza had traded in for her purgatory armour. A little overkill, but that was Erza. She took in a breath, and another. "Do we need this man?"

"He's here to keep us safe," Natalie said.

"Really? Because it looks like he's here to shoot whoever he wants," Erza sniped.

Natalie chewed her cheek. "I can't get rid of him. Sorry, Erza."

The redhead looked like she really wanted to argue. In a show of great control, she dismissed her sword and came to Jellal's side. Her hand went into his, reunited after their disagreement. He knew she'd always be loyal for as long as she could possibly be; that was Erza's gift. "Let's go then."

As the last one out, Erza closed the door. The sound echoed down the hallway. She kept her hand firmly in Jellal's. "What room is she in?"

Natalie responded. "Seventy-five."

On the first floor, one above the casino. Jellal squeezed Erza's hand so hard it hurt and tugged her into the elevator a few doors down from their room. Erza gritted her teeth against the pain as Eli, Natalie and their guard crowded into the elevator as well. The door closed, the machine hummed to life and brought them to the first floor, just one above the casino. Opening again, the elevator left them in a hallway that was loft-style, showing off the casino below.

In coming out, Eli dropped to the back of the group to be by Erza's side. He leaned into her and whispered in her ear. "You afraid, sunshine?" His breath was hot and smelling like cigarettes.

Jellal didn't seem to notice their exchange, too busy focusing on whatever it was that he focused on when he got that distant fucking look in his eye. His eyes were ahead on Natalie, trained between her shoulder blades and dropping every once in awhile to her behind. Erza dismissed a faint jealous pang and asked just as quietly, "Why would I be fearful?"

Eli's hand landed on her waist, touching the skin between her sharp bits of armour. Nothing ever fazed him, not blood, not the potential for harm. He was fearless in the way only those who cared little about their lives were. "Jellal's gone a little… off the tracks, no?"

She looked at him from the corner of her eye. His nose was swollen and so blue she almost couldn't see the light dusting of freckles that kissed his skin. He would have been handsome aside from that. Oh, and if he weren't such an asshole. His eyes were a hazel that bordered green, gold flecks marring the center, his five o'clock shadow suiting his face well, giving him a rugged look. Coupled with an unkempt suit that said he sort of cared but not really… well, she could see why women like Natalie might be drawn in.

"You're going to make me blush if you keep thinking like that," he said with a smirk. "You know, there are other reasons I got the name _Iblis._ If you want… we can sneak off into one of these rooms and I'll show you."

Flushing, she released Jellal's hand to pick Eli's off her waist. The other man still didn't seem to notice. Erza could only imagine he was gearing himself up for the coming confrontation. Or he was being made to be indifferent. There was nothing stopping Eli from fussing around in his head now. "Get your hands off of me."

She felt Eli's mouth curl up, it was so close to her skin. "Is that any way to talk to me when I'm just about to offer you a solution?"

She stopped trying to dislodge him and faltered back a few steps. Keeping her voice whisper quiet she said, "A solution?"

"Yeah. I can fix him, you know? Well. Maybe. If he wants to be fixed."

"What?" She came to a complete stop, leaning against the white balcony.

Eli settled in too close to her, his hips just inches from hers. He also didn't seem to care about things like personal space. "Jellal. He wasn't always this way. And he doesn't have to stay this way. Someone was in his head fucking things up for a long time. He's twisted. There's a chance I can bend him back into shape, if he wants to be."

Erza stopped Eli's hand from creeping into her side. "What do you mean?"

"I mean… a little tweak here, a twist there… he _could_ be as good as new again. This blood fascination…" He snapped in front of her face. "Gone."

It seemed glorious. And a little too easy. "What's in it for you?"

"Jellal took Celia away from Madam like he said he was going to. He gave her a second chance. I guess I can return the favour."

"You expect me to believe it's from the goodness of your heart?" As much as she wanted to… Erza had been raised to be a skeptic.

"I'm a fucking genuinely nice guy," Eli said. "I don't know why everyone thinks I'm not."

"You have the mark of Madam Genève's enforcer tattooed on your face, Eli. Did she give you that because you were being kind to people?"

He fingered the tattoo in question. "Yeah. You know, you gotta wear different shoes for different jobs."

Erza rolled her eyes and attempted to worm out of his grasp. Eli grabbed her arm. "Wait." Something in his voice made her stop. Looking back, she saw he was as serious as she'd ever seen him. "I saw into York's head. He's about as fucked as they come, but he's no kiddie molester. There are a few things he wants. His girls with big tits and a mouth that can go for days, drugs, money, but he's not sadistic like Madam was. That's cool by me. He can pay me exorbitant amounts. I'll fuck the girl he loves, take the cash, and be as good as a glory hole, right? I just gotta tell him when people are thinking of checking out without paying, and I gotta keep the rich in their seats in the casino. It's not that bad of a gig. I go when I want, do practically anything I want. Celia's safe. It's a no brainer, right? So… I think I can do Jellal a solid, if you make sure those lacrima stay where they are when you go on your way."

And there was the clutch. Erza didn't care as much as she thought she might. She was thinking about other things. Like what it would mean for Eli to root through Jellal's mind to put him right again. _If you say yes, does that make you no better than Ultear, taking away his freewill?_

 _No. This would be returning him to himself._ "And if it doesn't work?"

"He's just as cracked up as before. No harm, no foul, right?"

 _Right?_ The decision _should_ have been hard to make with Jellal's life and his mental health in her hands. She was tempted to just say yes. Because of the severe lack of hesitation, she said, "I need to ask him."

"That's not what you're thinking, Erza."

She clenched her jaw. "It's his mind." As much as she would like to, she didn't have the authority to just say _go ahead._ Jellal trusted her. That didn't mean she couldn't do her best to pressure him into it. "If he says yes, when?"

"As soon as we're done with Madam Genève." He searched Erza's eyes. "You know stopping him from killing her is only holding him back, right?"

Erza shook her head. "It's all he thinks about. It's unhealthy."

Eli reached between them and trapped her temples between his palms. Effortlessly, he slipped a memory into her head, one that wasn't his. A young Jellal sat on the ground, hands and ankles bound, tears streaming out of his eyes. There were whip marks on his back and handprints all over his body, punishment for being unwilling to do something so perverse, Erza's mind immediately rejected it because no one would ever ask another human being to do such a thing. He sobbed as a large and very naked man approached, Genève at his side.

"Do you want to see what happened after?" Eli whispered.

Erza gripped the railing at her back, only somewhat aware of Jellal twenty meters ahead and Gomorrah's casino ten feet below. "You know?"

"I know almost everything about him now," Eli responded. "Let me show you _why_ he wants to see her insides on the out, Erza. Why he, above the others, wants her dead. Remember, he was her _favorite._ He always screamed the nicest, he always did the most perverse, even if it took _hours_ of punishment to convince him it was worth it. Let me tell you, she loved every minute of it, he was always the most apologetic when he was bad."

Erza's mouth was dry. "I don't want to see."

"Really? It's right here—"

"No." Erza did what she could to steady her shaking hands. "If I let Jellal kill her…"

"You'll be letting a demon get some rest." Eli took a knife from his pocket, one long-handled and made of bone. He grabbed up her hand and placed it into her palm. "Let him be an _Iblis_ one more time before we put him to bed."

A commotion downstairs stole Erza's answer away. She looked over the railing to the casino ten feet below and saw a familiar looking blonde girl twist out of the grasp of a familiar looking redhead.

Eli voiced what she saw. "Celia."

Celia, screaming like an animal. Celia, clawing mercilessly at her arm, trying to break the skin. Celia, who had turned red and frothed at the mouth.

"Celia!" Eli called. The pajama's the young girl wore stuck out in amongst all of Casino Gomorrah's high rollers and only served to make her skin look all the redder.

"What's the matter with her?" Erza demanded.

Hearing Erza's panicked voice, Jellal looked back over his shoulder, finally realizing that he, Natalie and their guard were ahead of the group. "What's going on?" He sounded like himself there, worried but cognizant, not focused on only one thing.

"Celia!" Eli's voice only picked up in decibels and panic. "Celia! Don't!"

Erza watched the blonde girl tip her face up so she could look at her brother. The expression she wore was apologetic. Eli was reaching with his magic, Erza felt the familiar tingle, but it was too late. Ten feet below, with a wet face and a rueful expression, Celia stumbled away from a swearing Sienna into the centre of the casino. There, she tipped her face to the heavens, praying, Erza imagined, and closed her eyes.

What she used as an ignition source wasn't anything of a physical nature, but magical. The bomb she started beginning somewhere beneath her skin. There was no stopping the explosion from coming, the only thing to do was duck and hope for the best.

* * *

A/N: As is usual, I am a filthy, filthy liar. Horrendous. One wordy motherfucker. One more chapter, friends.


	30. Chapter 30

Casino Gomorrah's floors trembled with the explosion's roar. It was loud, loud enough that Jellal clapped his hands over his ears and _still_ he felt partially deaf. Ducking saved him from most of the spray, though none of the dust. It was in the air, that which wasn't heavy with blood, and choking. Time passed. Seconds that felt like minutes. Minutes that felt like hours. Several more rumbles shook Gomorrah, more bombs going off one after another, more people like Celia throwing their lives away at Madam Genève's behest. Everything was still in a matter of breaths. When it was through, Jellal barely dared to lift his head and see the carnage. He barely needed to; his imagination was so good, finely honed when it came to brutality and suffering. It was how he'd kept the monster under wraps when he desperately needed to be a man, feeding it images born of his mind.

This time, it wouldn't be satiated, the draw to _see_ was too much. Bits of blood splattered the balcony before him. He gripped the white banister and felt warm wet grit beneath his hands, the air's suspended particles sticking where they weren't supposed to, drawn in and plastered there with blood. A sideways glance told him Erza was sprawled like a spider, but getting her feet beneath her. She was fine. Flexing his fingers, he pulled himself up just enough to peak over the edge. Down below, the casino was in the tail end of a suspended state. Everyone that was dead was immobile, and those that weren't were frozen in shock, most on the floor with their arms clamped over their heads. His eyes immediately tracked to Sienna. She too was on the ground, though she lay flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling. For a moment he thought she was dead, and wasn't that tragic? Sienna, who had survived so much and found a shred of happiness in this mad city, torn apart by Madam Genève at last. But no, she moved an inch—just her fingers at first, and then she started to cough. As if that one sound unfroze the world, people started talking. Crying. Yelling. Muttering. Pushing themselves to their knees and scanning the area, looking for loved ones.

A commotion at Jellal's back made him turn away from the surreal state Gomorrah was trapped in. A room down the hall opened and a figure slipped out. A tall and wide man with cherry red hair. A familiar man. Jellal dug through his memory. _Roy_ , he thought, the guard that escorted Madam Genève out of Noir a few nights before. Now he was escorting her _through_ Casino Gomorrah, moving with hurried steps. Madam Genève was as graceful as ever as she bypassed hunks of granite and bits of concrete that had gotten thrown wide. Her skin gleamed in Gomorrah's pale light while her hair was as bright as fired gold.

It occurred to Jellal that he was watching them slip away. _Do something_. "Stop!" His voice cracked, as if he'd been silent for too long.

Roy glanced back. There was panic in his eye, but also manic delight. He was running from Julian and thought he was getting away. Beside him, Madam Genève, blonde curls looking a little flat but otherwise she was prim as you please, slowed and met Jellal's eyes.

"I will always win, Jellal."

He liked the way she said his name. _Je_ -lla. No one ever said it that way, except for Sienna when she slipped into her perfect Madam impression the odd time she dared. Regardless if he liked it or not, he never wanted it to come out of her mouth again. He was very quickly getting his wish; she was racing away once more. He summoned his magic and threw it her way. The floor beneath her feet shattered with the force of the spell. Marble didn't stand up well against celestial bodies. Madam wobbled and backpedaled, a frustrated cry on her lips. "A portal, Roy."

"I don't know if I can—"

"Don't be useless. Try."

"Yes." Roy touched the air. There was a moment of struggle, then he seemed to tear a hole into space. Looking through revealed the perfect glow of Scarlet Lake. Two things came to Jellal's attention: this was likely how Haya ended up on his balcony, and Madam and her newly acquired lackey were about to step through and get away. Jellal scrambled to his feet. He wasn't alone, there was someone beside him: Eli. The man was cussing. His blood pressure must have been sky high, his face was redder than a tomato and the vein on his forehead was sticking out. His magic was on the air, all of it directed at Madam Genève. The woman didn't flinch, unless you counted the smile that pulled up her mouth.

The guard Julian assigned to their group pulled his gun and aimed at the woman. Roy opened a portal in front of her so when the bullet left the gun, it actually slammed into one of Julian's staggering waitresses down below. She fell, the empty tray she'd still been holding flying from her hand and rolling across the floor. The portal snapped shut, blocking Jellal's view of the carnage. It didn't last long. Roy opened another directly beside Jellal and reached through to snap their guard's neck. There was no second gunfire, only the sick crunch of bone as his head spun and a thump as he fell to the ground, as limp as a sack of flour.

Jellal tensed and waited for his turn, convinced that he wouldn't meet the same fate and eager to show Madam why. Killing was what he did best.

There was no attack.

Madam spoke. "I wanted you to know, Celia wanted to help, Eli. _She_ asked _me_ if she could do the honours. This was her idea."

For Jellal, Eli was no longer just making noise; his words suddenly came into focus. "Celia hated you."

"As we hate then so we love. She just needed time to see it."

"Then you poisoned her mind."

" _Moi_?" She laughed. "Her brother is the... what's the name Haya gave all bad men? _Iblis?_ My people say _Diable_. The only name I will give you though is _Inutile_." Useless. "As are all men that will not obey. A man that will hold out his hand for whoever is willing to pay him most is of no use to me."

"Of course not," added a new voice, stealing Eli's response. "You don't have the funds to keep a man like Eli Tase employed. Not a little maggot-sucker like you."

Jellal made himself look past Madam to where Julian stood not so far behind her. He hadn't seen Gomorrah's owner come up the stairs, he'd been too focused on Madam for that, however, now that he saw Julian, he noticed that the man wore an annoyed expression in the face of all the calamity going on down below. His neck was slightly red, but he wasn't sweating as other men might when he realized his establishment was in shambles and a large chunk of his customers had met their end. He was confident, as if he had control and he was positive things would stay that way. Hell, and who was Jellal to say otherwise?

Madam Genève didn't bother looking at Julian. " _Bonjour,_ Julian. I see your manners are a fleeting thing."

Julian leaned against one of the soot and blood stained support pillars, arms crossed over his chest. "Normally I'd find it within myself to be politer, but you've been a most incredible bitch."

Madam's smile was one that carved its way through Jellal's heart. Her voice was honey on a burn. " _Qui._ But only after you've tried to take so much from me. Jellal. Eli."

"I didn't have to take," Julian said. "All I did was offer your people a better deal and here they are."

She finally looked away from Jellal, for which he was sad. "Is that what you think? In my experience, some dogs you feed treats. Some you beat. But a dog will _never_ be loyal for money, Julian. What does it know of it?"

Jellal found his voice. "Your biggest mistake was treating us all like dogs." Imagine if she were just a little nicer? Jellal barely could stomach imagining attacking her now.

Madam softened. "Never you, Jellal. I love you. Always."

 _Love._

"See?" Madam asked Julian. "More flies will come with honey than thousands, Julian." She touched the red haired man at her side. "As with Jellal, many of your people have seen there is a different way to do things. Most of them are dead now, eager to sacrifice to our cause, but there are always more like Roy, happy to help for just a spot of my attention."

"Apparently. I'm disappointed, Roy. And confused. The last I checked, you weren't a mage," Julian said. "But there you are, using magic."

Madam spoke for Roy, as she spoke for all of her people. "He's still not a mage, that's someone else's power he's using. It's a new drug I've been working on. Do you like it? I think many people will want something that will give them another mage's power. It's temporary, the effects will wear off, but when they do, Roy can choose a _new_ power, and be a different kind of mage for a few hours. _Magnifique._ " Roy drew himself up, as proud as a peacock beneath the woman's appraising gaze. Madam said, "Julian, _mon amour,_ I'll be richer than you could ever hope to be. But don't worry, once I've made Gomorrah mine, I'll put you out front, give you your own little glory hole and make sure the men coming through take extra care in showing you what a good cocksucker you can be."

That made Julian fume. Silently, but his anger was palpable.

While he seethed, Madam directed all of her attention at Jellal. "Jellal? Be _mon préféré_ once more?"

She looked beautifully terrible in that moment, the world beyond her in chaos while she reigned as its queen. The way it was always meant to be. _Be mine_. Be in her bed, petting and getting pet. Open his mouth for anything she wanted to put inside. Bodies. Drugs. Alcohol. Fingers that tasted like all of the above. Jellal faltered, imagining it so clearly, it almost brought him to his knees.

He must have been broadcasting his thoughts because beside him, Eli developed a rotten look. "It's a lie."

A beautiful lie. He'd be a slave. And he already belonged to someone else. To verify that, he looked for Erza. There she was, just steps away, hair matted, eyes narrowed. She looked right at Jellal, begging him to pull away from the other woman.

Jellal took in a dust-choked breath and reached for Altairis before he couldn't. It wasn't perfect. He wouldn't feel her breath stall; he wouldn't know when her heart stopped. But she'd be crushed and all of the innocents that died a storey below would be avenged. The spell came in a cold wave, tearing up the floors, ripping apart the railing, stealing all of the air and replacing it with blackness. Julian yelled. The people downstairs screamed, all those left alive. They'd be crushed, too. Jellal almost didn't care if it meant that this would _stop_.

Madam didn't give him what he wanted. There was no panic behind her eyes, no rattle of her body as a hopeless shiver took her in the face of his strongest spell. She just stood there, arms outstretched, and welcomed the tempest. Seconds later, Altairis faltered, suddenly a lamb. It totally failed as soon as it kissed her toes.

Magic swallowed, Jellal felt empty. _It didn't work. It didn't work. Because you don't want to kill her. See? You want to be a pet. You want to see all of the twisted things she can think to make you do, you want to take all of her drugs until you're on the verge of an overdose, because while you say you don't like it, you live for it_. Jellal's mouth went dry. _That can't be true._

"It's not, you fucking daisy box. The spell was fine. She has an anti-magic lacrima," Eli barked. _Idiot._

Madam Genève let her arms drop. "Yes. No one can touch me anymore. Not you, Julian, Eli, not you, Jellal. But that doesn't mean that you can't be useful anymore. All of you will be used to make the best Illusion." She looked at Erza especially. "Some I'll do quickly, while others will be made to pay for their transgressions. But not you Jellal, you've become quite the mage. You'll make a good replacement for Haya. Come." She held out her hand, looking at Jellal expectantly. She would accept nothing except total obedience. And he was standing from the crumb choked ground, going toward her. The portal beside her waited.

"Jellal!" Erza's voice was distant. All Jellal thought when he heard her was, _she took my knife. And now I have nothing_. Maybe he wasn't the monster he thought himself to be. Or maybe he was, actually, if he could fathom going with Madam.

"Enough," Julian said shortly when Jellal was still steps away and grabbed a silver gun from his hip. He took aim. Roy's head popped like a balloon filled with warm red water. The blood doused Madam Genève, Jellal, Eli and even Erza, too. Madam yelled, startled for the first time; Erza joined her. Jellal and Eli were silent, preferring to enjoy their shock that way.

Julian pointed the gun at Madam Genève. "Use guns because magic is unpredictable, Genève."

She schooled her blood-dotted face into prim indifference. "You won't shoot me."

 _Please no_ , Jellal prayed.

There was such little hesitation as Julian cocked back the hammer and fired his gun again, proving her wrong. Jellal held his breath as Madam Genève fell, for several heartbeats wondering what it meant if she succumbed to death like this. It wasn't her head or her chest that bled, though, it was her foot. She screamed; a beautiful sound. A heart-wrenching sound. A hair-raising sound.

Julian's face was as blank as a canvas, except for that little flicker of rage in his eye. He was a very good pretender, keeping most of that dangerousness under wraps until he just couldn't anymore. "Again?" He fired before Madam could answer, shooting her other foot. Then he spoke calmly over her screaming. "I've played your games, I've been political. Now it's time to be autocratic. You've wrecked my casino, which I quite liked. It will be rebuilt, better than before, I believe, but that doesn't change how _massively_ inconvenient it is. It's inevitable that my reputation will take a harder hit, but with Illusion and this new drug, we'll fix that quick."

Genève snorted, her face pale. "You'll rot for desecrating me."

Jellal agreed. And he did not. As long as Julian didn't finish the deed. Maybe it was okay then.

"We've only just begun." Julian nodded to Jellal and Eli. "Get her up and back into that room."

Beside Jellal, Eli twitched, his face a mask of rage. Jellal knew that look. Eli didn't _want_ to carry her into the room. He wanted to slit her throat or put a bullet between her eyes. He wanted revenge.

" _Now_ , Eli," Julian snapped. "Remember our deal, both of you. We get our answers and then you can do whatever the fuck you want. Give me the lacrima." He held out his hand.

Eli wavered, at a vicious war with himself. Eventually, he seemed to come to some sort of… not peace, exactly, but resolution. He dug the off-white stone from his pocket and handed it over. Julian tucked it into his suit jacket and made to lead the way to the room.

Erza found her feet and her courage and stepped into the front of the group. "There are people downstairs that need medical attention." She was uncomfortable through and through.

"And some that need a grave," Julian said shortly. "They'll be dealt with."

"Not later when you think it's convenient," Erza said. "Now while they're still alive to appreciate the help."

Julian closed his eyes, searching for patience. When he opened them again, he looked over the edge of the balcony. "Sienna."

Jellal followed his gaze and found his childhood friend once more. She'd made her way to the bar and now just leaned against the dusty countertop, fingers cramped into a tight fist, face pale and tear streaked. Her dress was totally ruined, partially with soot, partially with bits of… well, he could only imagine with the smell of blood so thick on the air that it stuck to the back of his throat. For the first time in days (years?) it turned his stomach. There was just _so much_.

"Get Griswold. Tell him if he's serious about doing business then he can start with cleaning up this mess. Let him get whoever he needs to. People that will keep their mouths shut. I'll pay."

Sienna nodded emotionlessly. "Yes, Mr. York." And then she was stumbling through the wreckage, through twitching dead bodies and the moaning injured.

"Now." Julian slipped his gun back into its holder and tugged on his grimy suit. His gold rings flashed in the overhead lights, the only bright things in Gomorrah any more. "If Miss Scarlet is appeased? Please move."

Erza remained in place. "No."

Julian looked at her, piqued. "And why not, exactly?"

Jellal could see Erza was fortifying herself. "You're going to torture her for information."

"That's the general idea, yes," Julian replied.

Erza trembled. "I can't allow it."

Julian let that sink in. "Can't allow it... This is the woman that's tortured and ended so many lives, she's an aficionado on the matter. You watched her kill a little girl in cold blood. In one go, she's taken …" He looked over the edge. "Eight lives? Give or take a few. You don't have to feel sympathy, Erza. I know sometimes these things are difficult to handle. If it's too much… just turn your back and look the other way."

Erza shook more violently. Jellal couldn't tell if it was repulsion or fear of what she was thinking that was driving her jitters.

Julian again fixed his cuffs. "Eli. Jellal."

Jellal didn't look at Erza as he moved past her and stood at Madam's side. The floor around his childhood monster was soaked in red, red blood. The colour was startling; he didn't think she could bleed like the rest of them, but there she was, blood and bone. He looked down at her high heeled feet just to be certain. What was once delicate skin so pale it was nearly blue, was now a mulched mess that bled freely. He looked to her eyes and saw they were glossy with pain and tears. His heart lurched. _She's just a woman._ That took up almost every thought that Erza didn't own.

"Jellal," Erza called him again. There was no helping looking back, though Jellal desperately wanted to ignore her. She locked him in her worried gaze. Jellal waited and waited for her to say something. Ask him to stop. Summon her blade to do the deed herself. Ask him to beg her to honour her morals.

He would not and with every second that passed in silence, it seemed she would not, either.

Getting up the nerve to grab Madam Genève beneath the elbow was like climbing a mountain, the task seeming impossible until it was completed. She was light when Jellal tugged her up. He made to adjust and she stumbled, falling back to the ground with a pained gasp because her ruined feet would no longer support her. The next logical thing to do made his heart _pound_ and his hands shake. Grabbing her up beneath the knees and holding her close was a peculiar sensation. It was intimate.

Madam looked at him with eyes bluer than the sea. Despite the slight green tinge to her face, she gripped his shirt and found a thread of control. "It seems our positions are reversed, _mon amour_. Tell me, do you take as much pleasure out of holding me as I did holding you?"

 _Magnifique_. Her fingers even inched up his neck and slid into his hair. They were painted sunset orange like in the old days. It was one of her favourite colours. Jellal squeezed her body tightly to his.

"Be quiet."

"Why would I be quiet when all I can do is _quiver_ imagining what you'll do inside that room? Will you punish me _, mon amour_? Will you choke me again and tell me you hate me even as you fuck me? You used to like it when the girls asked you to make them cry—as I recall, it made you feel in control."

Jellal wished she'd be silent; he was aware of Erza watching their exchange, listening as all of his darkest memories rose to the surface.

Madam asked, "Will you try to make me cry? You never could before, but then... you were different. You weren't a man."

Jellal's mouth was cotton dry. If he had his knife, he'd slice her throat to naval and pull out everything on the inside. There would be no coming back from something like that. Her mouth would still and he wouldn't think about doing all of those things to her. As it was, Erza had stripped him bare and he'd never felt more helpless despite the situation. "I said _be silent_."

Madam's smile belonged to a cat, sly. Into his ear she whispered, "Your foundation is crumbling. Stop pretending to be Julian York's. I'll forgive you for abetting him and everything will be wonderful once more. We'll be together."

Jellal took long steps into Madam's room and dropped her unceremoniously back in the elaborately carved wooden chair she convinced Roy to break her out of. The cuffs were still there, opened and thrown on the ground. He hastened to clamp them back on. Madam winced and said, "Tighter."

Jellal obliged, cranking them on until they bit into her wrist, stopping only when she hissed. Jellal relished the sound. "I think you'll find me crueler than the last time we met. As you said, I am no longer the boy I was."

" _Qui_." And she loved it; it was written all over her face.

Julian touched Jellal's shoulder, drawing his focus from Madam. He realized that Erza, Eli and Julian had all followed him into the room. Erza took up residence by the now closed door, a guard with a sword and an ear cocked for more trouble. For all of the attention she spared on the outside, looking for intruders that would cause even more trouble, she was able to watch Jellal and spare him a sympathetic look. He hated that sympathy. He didn't want it. It made him feel human.

"Now," Julian said, "This is more like it. Tell me where to find your anti-magic lacrima, Genève, and this can go much smoother."

"I would rather my tongue putrefy," she said stubbornly.

"Oh… if I go digging enough through the mages in this land I'm sure that could be arranged," Julian said.

Jellal heard himself speak. "I will search her." _I will?_ Apparently, because he was reaching for her. Until smooth hands stopped him.

"I will." Erza, trying to save him from himself, shimmied in front of him and started checking Madam with sure fingers.

"You are beautiful," Genève purred as Erza smoothed her hands over the woman's body. "It's a shame that when this is all through, your face will be black and swollen. I'll ask Jellal to do the honours."

Jellal's throat closed with revulsion. He didn't want anyone to see how Madam's words affected him, but he was as easy to read as a book, pale and sweating. "I would never."

"I know that look, Jellal," was all Madam whispered.

All business, Erza felt between the woman's legs and even around her ruined feet. "She has no lacrima on her person."

Julian sucked in an annoyed breath. "Very well. It's the hard way, then. Genève, begin by telling me all about this new drug you've created."

Madam only stared at Jellal, her gaze unnerving.

"I really do suggest talking," Julian pressed. "Eli here just lost someone important to him and probably feels like he doesn't have much to lose, and the dog you abused for most of his young life looks like he's in the business of biting."

"I will not help you."

Rage drifted off Julian in waves; Jellal couldn't help but feed off of it. The man said, "You were nothing when I picked you up off the streets. Your _Vault_ had been burned to the ground, you were poor, you were a _joke_. It was _my_ money that put you back on top. You've seemed to have forgotten that."

"I did not forget, Julian," she replied. "I simply didn't care."

Jellal watched Julian reach for his gun again. Beside him, Erza was as stiff as a stick and stayed that way until Julian seemed to have a better idea. "Break her fingers until she talks."

Jellal didn't know if Julian was talking to he or Eli. It was Eli that stepped forward, though and took Madam's cuffed hands in his. The first finger to break snapped like a dry twig; the sound filled Jellal's ears and lived there right beside Madam's scream. His balls shrank into his body at the same time shivers took him. He didn't know if he loved it or hated it, as was his plight lately.

To Madam Genève, Eli said, "It would be easier if you told me where to find your anti-magic lacrima."

"It would be easier if you put a gun in your mouth, Eli, and pulled the trigger," Madam responded. "You were so eager to die before. Go ahead."

Eli snapped her ring finger next. The resounding scream was loud enough to pierce Jellal's ears. He dared to look away from Madam's pain-filled face and found Erza. She looked sick to her stomach.

"I cannot sit here while you do this, Julian," Erza said as the third finger broke. "It's sick."

"I told you to leave, Erza. Sienna will need help downstairs, I'm sure," Julian replied.

"You're missing the _point_ ," Erza said. "I'll know you're up here torturing her."

The fifth finger snapped. "What are you going to do when you run out?" Genève ruffed out between Erza's words.

"I'll move on to your toes," Eli said coldly.

Erza's words were distant. "She's horrible, and she deserves to be punished, but this…"

"Yes. This," Julian said. "She would pin you to the wall, Miss Scarlet, and take no mercy on you."

"What he says is true," Genève agreed in a halting breath. "I would let the men fuck you until you were dead, Erza Scarlet. They would pay me for the opportunity." She laughed. "They'd like you powerless. When I'm out of here, that'll be my first order of business. Will you sit beside me, Jellal, and watch? I might let you be the last to have her."

The revulsion was real. Jellal grabbed her arm and jammed his hand into her elbow. The bone just popped right out. Genève's scream was the loudest yet, but Erza's muffled gasp was heard as well. Jellal dropped Genève's arm and dared to look at the redhead. There was something very human in her that was struggling to shut down. She was fighting it; who knew how long she'd last?

Eli brought Jellal's attention away from Erza by grabbing Madam's broken arm and lifting it to examine where the skin broke. "It was smart at first."

"What is it?" Julian asked.

Madam looked like she was going to be sick. "Release me at once."

Eli did not. He worked his fingers up Madam's forearm, pushing something toward the tear in her skin. Finally, he reached into the wound. Erza looked away; Jellal couldn't help but stare. A small ball soaked in blood came out.

"This is where you've hidden your lacrima? In your skin?" Julian asked with a grin. "Clever." He looked to Eli. "Can you read her now?"

"Mostly. She's got more on her, but I think they're damaged," Eli responded after a moment of mental prodding. He didn't look happy to be inside her head. Jellal wished he could share the experience. To Madam, Eli said, "You're a piece of work."

"And you're a dead man, Eli Tase. You're more useful that way," Madam replied.

"How do you plan on killing me?" Eli asked. "You're the one handcuffed and helpless."

"Not for long."

Eli closed his eyes, sorting through her head. "She has two more people coming and thinks they'll break her free. Both of them have magic that isn't their own."

"How is she doing it?" Julian asked.

Eli poked around some more. Jellal didn't need anyone to tell him that Madam was fighting him every step of the way. It wasn't enough, not without her lacrima. "She's extracting pure magic from mages and changing its form so it can be consumed. The effects don't last long, but it works for a bit. Most of them have no idea how to use the power, though. A lot of them burn themselves up and die."

"You can see the process?" Julian asked eagerly.

"Yeah."

"And how about those people? You can see where she's got them coming in?"

"Yeah," Eli agreed.

"Then let's go meet them, shall we? You can show me why I'm paying you so much." Julian turned to Erza and shamelessly invaded her personal space. "Remember your promise?"

"My promise?" Erza repeated. The man was so close, she could smell the whisky on his breath. He must have been very, very drunk. Or well on his way to being. He didn't sway, he didn't smile stupidly. He was only intense.

Julian pointed to Jellal. "Keep him from killing the bitch until I'm done with her. Watch them."

Erza didn't trust herself to speak so she nodded.

"We'll return shortly. Come on, Eli."

Eli hesitated; like Jellal, there was only one thing he truly wanted. He glanced at Erza. Something passed between them that Jellal wasn't privy to. Erza looked away, unable to hold his gaze for any longer. And then Eli and Julian were gone, leaving Jellal and Erza alone with Madam Genève.

Jellal was the first to break the silence. "It saddens me to see you like this."

Madam Genève lifted wet eyes. "It hurts to see your loved ones treated so barbarically."

Jellal tapped her foot with his not-shiny-any-longer shoes. "And yet you did things like this all of the time."

"And you loved it all the time."

Jellal bit his cheek so hard that his mouth filled with copper. "Julian York is going to torture you even though Eli can read you."

"Will he?" Madam asked.

"No," Jellal said after a moment. "I will." He was so cold, his skin ached. "I'll make it so the boy you loved is the man that you fear."

"Jellal."

He looked up to meet Erza's eyes. Not that he wanted to. He didn't want to see the disgust on her face. There was plenty of it. He was incapable of looking away. She held out her hand. "Come here."

He was _also_ incapable of disobeying her. Stepping away from Madam Genève was difficult. He did it, though, walking until he was behind her chair and only inches away from Erza. The redhead took him by the front of his soiled shirt and pulled him closer. Now there was only millimetres between them. She smelled like sweat and dust and blood and tasted like it, too, when she pulled him down and crushed their mouths together

Something hard and cold was pressed into his hand. Something familiar. He looked beneath his lashes and had his suspicions confirmed. Though she had pressed it into his hand, Erza was less than willing to relinquish her hold, at vicious war with herself. Her turmoil came through in her kiss, in the way her fingers squeezed in his shirt.

 _"Vous êtes si doux amoureux_ ," Madam preened. _You're such sweet lovers._

Erza's mouth disappeared. Her fingers loosened, on his shirt, on his knife. She didn't say a word to Jellal before the door closed behind her, taking her out into the hallway and leaving him with Madam Genève.

Jellal breathed and breathed and breathed. Through all the blood and the dust, he could smell Madam's perfumes. They brought back memory after memory, most of which were tainted in pain.

"We are alone, Jellal. What will you do? Kill me like you've spoken of? Set me free like you want?"

The knife went into his pocket. He returned to her side so he could look at the mascara running down her face. "Where are the keys for your handcuffs, Madam?"

Her smile was genuine. Heartbreaking. He loved it. " _Monsieur_ Roy dropped them to the ground as we left. By the door."

Jellal found the silver key rather quickly, only searching for a moment on his hands and knees. He clutched the cold metal and returned to her side. There, with her broken hands in his, key poised over the lock hole, he hesitated.

"If you love me, Jellal, you will release me," Madam whispered.

 _Yes._ He put the key into the hole and turned it until the handcuffs _chinked_ open and fell onto her lap, and then onto the floor, the sound loud in the noiseless room. Her wrists were red, a deep indent where the metal bit in. She couldn't rub it, so he did it for her.

" _Merci._ I knew your love for me would triumph."

His lungs felt inadequate. "Does it hurt?"

"It won't for much longer," Madam said. "Julian's healer is waiting for me. He too will be mine. All he wants is what everyone wants. Money, drugs and women. The last piece of the puzzle was I told him he could have that _pute sale_ Julian keeps at his side."

"Natalie." Wilber was fascinated with her.

" _Qui._ " She held out her arm and he did as she wanted, pulling her upright though it pained her to stand. When she was vertical, he did what he'd longed to do for many, many years and pulled her in to his chest. He could feel her heart throbbing through her clothing. "I will always love you."

" _Tu es un bon garçon_."

He was a good boy. He closed his eyes, feeling tears press into his lids. " _Qui_."

"I knew I could depend upon you, Jellal. Julian York confused you, made you think you'd lost your way, and that whore. But I knew. I knew you'd remember."

He did. He remembered everything here in her arms. He rubbed his nose with the hand that was made to hold his blade and remembered one more important thing. The _most_ important. "I was a monster before I was a man."

* * *

The shots that drilled through Gomorrah's now silent casino were startlingly final. Erza didn't see where they came from, but there was two that came out in quick succession. The drop of bodies to the ground was also unmistakable. She closed her eyes and prayed. She prayed for the nightmare to end. She prayed for freedom. She prayed that she did the right thing.

"Erza?"

Her eyes came open. She found Sienna. The girl was barefooted despite the bits of glass and other, darker things scattered throughout Gomorrah. "Are you alright, Sienna?"

She looked to the door at Erza's back. "Julian said you were supposed to be with Jellal."

"…Yes."

"Inside the room with Madam Genève. He said you were supposed to be watching them."

Erza looked away.

Panic filled Sienna's eyes. She pushed past Erza and threw open the door. Her gasp was quick to follow. Erza couldn't look over her shoulder, afraid of what she'd see. Jellal was two men: the one that killed quickly and mercifully, and the one that maimed Adisa. _How many more did he do like he did that man?_ Was Genève's death, the woman he hated most in this world, going to be even _more_ violent? _What have I done?_

Like a coward, she stayed looking out into the hallway and told herself it was because she was looking for Julian's return. Way down below, men and women in police uniforms moved throughout the hotel looking for survivors. More than a few people were getting medical treatment. Above the cries and sobs, Sienna's voice came to her, mimicking her own internal thoughts. "He'll kill you, Jellal. Gods. What have you done?"

"What needed to be done. What he paid me to do." Jellal wasn't nearly as emotionless as Erza expected. He sounded choked. In pain. Her heart wrenched.

"You need to leave. Before he comes back. Gods. Damnit." Sienna's words warbled badly. Erza's eyes had never been _more_ fixed on the far wall. _Don't look._

"Sienna—"

"You need to _leave_ ," she hissed. "And you need to leave _now._ Don't talk to me. Fuck. If he sees us together, he's going to kill me, too. Fuck."

"Then leave."

"And how will you get out?" Sienna snapped. She didn't even know what she was saying anymore.

"Through the front door," Jellal said stubbornly. With every word, his voice became clearer as he came to terms with what he'd done.

"He'll _kill_ you, Jellal. He didn't get all of the information out of her that he wanted. Follow me, hurry."

Erza's heart was still _pounding._ "Sienna is right. We need to leave." Because she couldn't stand being there. _No more._

"Erza…" Jellal started.

Erza kept her eyes forward. He had to come out of the room and stand before her to even meet her gaze. He didn't touch her; his hands were too bloody for that. She could see he _wanted_ to, though. "If we stay here, Jellal, I fear we'll never leave."

 _Because you'll be dead, or because you'll never want to?_ Jellal looked at something over Erza's shoulder. Back at Madam Genève. Part of his façade cracked. He was close to tears again. "I had to."

He wouldn't touch her, so Erza took his hand. "I know." _Yes,_ she reaffirmed when a small voice asked, _really?_ "But we've done what we said we were going to do, and now its time to leave. Trust me."

Just like that, he buckled.

Julian's voice drifted through Casino Gomorrah, far enough away that no words could be made out, but close enough that the tenor was unmistakable. Closer than any of them would have liked.

Pale faced, Sienna said, "This way." She staggered down the hall, as stiff as a rusty tin-man, and led them a way Erza didn't know. The casino proper was left behind with a few well-timed turns, the sound of crying faded into the background, the smell of seared flesh. Now there was only their own stench.

"Tell me she deserved what she got," Sienna said as she walked.

"She deserved it," Jellal agreed with only a moment's hesitation.

"Tell me it was painless."

"As much as I could have made it."

Erza didn't ask what that meant.

"Tell me we're safe."

That he would not do. Jellal grabbed her arm and pulled her up short. "You need to leave Gomorrah."

"I can't leave Natalie, and Natalie won't leave Julian."

"Then maybe you'll die, Sienna," Jellal said. "It seems Innisfil wants something from all of its people." And that something was always blood.

Sienna was quiet. Then, "Natalie will keep me safe." She pulled out of his grasp and started off again.

Erza wasn't so sure. She kept her opinion to herself, though, her mind otherwise occupied by the man at her side. He twitched with agitation, every step taken, his knees threatening to give out on him. There was iron in his blood yet. Stubbornness that allowed him to take the lives he needed to.

Sienna took them down a flight of stairs and rushed toward a door marked _Exit._ She threw it open, letting in the night. Before Erza could slip out around her, Sienna grabbed her hand and pressed their mouths together in a short, breath stealing kiss. It was done before Erza could decide what to do with herself. Sienna went for Jellal next, gathering him in for a tight hug. "I hope I never see you again."

Jellal was slow in hugging her back, but eventually pressed their bodies together, leaving a red handprint on the back of her dress. "Me, too."

Sienna kissed his cheek then pushed them out of the door. She closed it without another word. Erza grabbed Jellal's hand and tugged him away from Gomorrah's walls. Out here at the back of the building, it didn't even look like the inside was in tatters, the bricks pristine, the lights above still on. Looks were deceiving.

"This way." Erza put Scarlet Lake in her sights and hurried along, her armour loud. Jellal kept pace with her, so he was brought up just as sharply as they rounded the corner and Erza ploughed into a tall man in a long brown trench coat.

The man caught her before she could meet the ground. "Easy there." He puffed on the cigarette between his lips, the red glow revealing his features. Erza recognized him immediately.

"Officer Griswold…"

He looked at their ragtag state and drew his conclusions quickly. "Finally checking out?"

 _This man belongs to Julian York._ Erza tensed, as did Jellal beside her. "Yes, we're leaving."

Griswold tipped his non-police issue bowler's cap. "Not a moment too soon, I say. Won't be long now until Innisfil get's the cleanup it needs. We've got a professional coming. Or so he says. Dug him out of a fight at the Black Cat. Says he's bored and wants to knock a few heads together. Who am I to say no?"

Who indeed? "Excuse us." Jellal sidestepped.

"Hey." Griswold grabbed his wrist and tugged him up short. Jellal's hand was on his knife, ready to slice the cop anew. The man didn't go for any weapon. "Let me tell you the same thing I tell everyone that's got enough guts and brains to leave this town, eh? Don't come back, kids, not ever. Chances of Innisfil letting you go again are fucking slim."

Innisfil loved its sinners.


	31. Chapter 31

Winter made itself known as the first snowflake plummeted from the sky and landed on Erza's cheek. It was too early for the snow to make any sort of play at staying on the ground, but the mornings and nights were particularly brisk; this night was no exception. Beside her, Jellal smothered a shiver. The clothing he wore was not exactly winter-grade—a ragged dress shirt, dress pants and scuffed dress shoes.

"We should stop for the evening."

Jellal looked at her sideways. "We should keep going." He couldn't outrun his demons, but outpacing Innisfil was a fuck of a start.

"You're cold."

"So?" He'd been worse things.

Erza rolled her eyes. "Let's just get a motel or something—"

Jellal pulled up short. "I can't, Erza."

She staggered to a halt beside him. Tonight there was no armour to whine, only a soft wool sweater and a matching hat, both dark grey so she blended in with the night. "You can't?"

He stuffed his hands deep into his pockets. "We're out of Innisfil now." Approaching Era, actually. The men and women here would know his face. Without fail. "I'll be arrested if I'm caught."

Erza chewed her cheek, drawing the courage to say her next words. "We could hide your tattoo." Seeing him without it had almost tricked her all those weeks ago. Jellal faltered and Erza's heart ached; she didn't want to talk about that tattoo and what it meant. On the other hand, she didn't want to shy away from it either. It made him who he was and she loved that man. Even if sometimes he was a monster.

"Hiding my tattoo won't fool anyone." It certainly didn't fool him. He was the same with or without it.

"Then we'll find another shelter. I saw an abandoned garage on the last street." She turned around without waiting for his approval.

"Erza." Jellal snatched up her hand and turned her around to face him. She looked so… At a loss. He cradled her cheek; even his hands were cold. "I can't ask you to do this. Run around in secret with me. Risking your reputation. Leave me here and rejoin your friends."

"Fairy Tail is gone," Erza said stubbornly. "You're all I have, Jellal. Will you deny me that?" They'd been through too much. _And he'll need you_. His mind was still frayed. Without Eli's help… she didn't know how long it would take for him to get better. Or if he even would.

"Fairy Tail may be gone, but your guild mates are still very much alive. I kept tabs on them every now and again. The Strauss' were in Melony before I arrived in Innisfil. The chances of them still being there is high. If you like, I'll go with you until you find them—"

Erza clutched his wrists; wrists that still had scabs on them from Madam Genève's clawing. At least he was no longer soaked to the elbow in blood, the evidence washed away in a small creek just outside of Innisfil the day before. "Stop."

Jellal fell silent.

Erza said, "If I wanted to find the Strauss', I'd look. I don't, though. I want to stay with you."

"We'll always be on the run."

"Then we'll run until we can't."

"And then what? If you get caught with us…"

"Then I get caught."

"They'll arrest you."

She cupped his face in the same way, bringing their foreheads together. "I won't leave you."

Jellal pulled her close enough that their mouths met. Tonight she tasted like winterberry tea, purchased at a small coffee shop just outside of town.

Erza eased away. "Come on."

Jellal followed her down the street, not entirely sold on allowing her to travel with him, but seeing no future in which he told her to leave. He loved her too much. He was too greedy.

The garage Erza spoke of was more of a shack. The window had been busted out and boarded up again, the door had been torn off its hinges and replaced, then sealed with a padlock. Erza grabbed the lock and jiggled it in frustration. Not to be defeated, she tugged a sword out of thin air.

Jellal grabbed her arm before she could swing. "Wait."

Erza pulled up short and stepped aside for Jellal when he took her place in front of the door. He grabbed the lock, concentrated his magic, and felt the metal _pop_. Bits of steel dug into his palm, some of them going in deep enough to make him bleed. He didn't hiss, ensnared by the red trekking down his palm. Erza touched his shoulder gently. He released the lock and allowed her to push the door open.

Inside, the place smelled like mildew and moist earth. It was completely barren, save for a stray block of wood and a ruined stool, the fabric used to make its seat torn and shredded by mice. Most of the floor was cracked all the way down to the soil level. The only place that wasn't was the far corner.

"Perfect."

Compared to Gomorrah? Not so much, but it was what Jellal was used to. He closed the door. This was the exact kind of place Crime Sorciere would hole up.

"Here." Erza waved him close. Jellal stopped tugging the metal out of his hand (playing with the blood, really) and came to her. Erza did her best to dismiss the peculiar look on his face and searched through her armoury for a first aid kit. It was threadbare with only a wrap for torn muscles left inside. It would do. She took Jellal's hand and wrapped it up as best she could, blocking out the blood that had so caught his attention. "Tomorrow we'll get more supplies and fix it properly."

Jellal closed his hand on the wound, feeling the pain. "Thank you." That's what people said when things were done for them, even when they weren't all that grateful.

Erza smiled and reached into her armoury again, this time for a blanket. It wasn't the warmest, but it would do. She wasted no time in sitting and patting the place beside her. Jellal lowered himself to the ground; Erza tucked into him and placed her ear against his chest. She could hear his heart thrumming along. She played her fingers over the inside of his thigh.

"Are you warmer?"

"I'm fine, Erza."

He wasn't. She knew he wasn't. "Tomorrow I'll sell another gem from my sword and we'll get warmer clothes."

Jellal missed his cloak. "This line of work doesn't pay very well. I likely won't be able to repay anything you give me."

"I don't need money," Erza said automatically.

Still, Jellal couldn't help but think if he'd stayed at Gomorrah he could have anything he wanted… he could have dealt with Julian. He thought maybe the man could have even forgiven him for taking Madam's life. So what if Julian only got the instruction on how to make this new drug? So what if Illusion would fade into obscurity? Julian knew a good resource when it came to him. He'd find a way to make up for his losses.

 _You're not going to work for him. You're not ever returning to Innisfil. Not even to stare at Scarlet Lake and wonder if Madam Genève found her grave at the bottom._ No. He was going to stay away. When things got bad, he'd chew through his nails until the voice in his head that screamed for blood was a little more silent. _It can happen_.

Erza tipped her face up and kissed him. He got caught on something else scarlet. Her hair was silken in his hands, not slippery and wet like blood.

 _See? You don't always have to be a monster._

Not always, no. But he didn't know if he could always be a man, either.

 _Later. Deal with that later._ For now, Erza was finding other ways to make him warm, climbing on his lap and shimmying her hips. Her arms went around his neck. He grabbed her hips, determined to discover if she left all her sin in Innisfil.

* * *

A/N: Hello! Thanks for reading, guys, super appreciate it!

Check out my E-book on Amazon, it's called The Abolition of Caden Hail by Kaitlin Corvus. If you're not interested but you want to support me in other ways, like my Facebook page, Kaitlin Corvus, tell your friends! That'd be super epic of you.

Anyway, Thanks so much for reading, you've been _magnifique._

 _-Freyja_


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